


Lost and Found

by kasey8473



Series: Friends Found [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:10:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 244,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasey8473/pseuds/kasey8473
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Castiel learns that Zachariah’s deeds extended to denying a deserving soul rest: Jo Harvelle. He informs Dean, who hatches a plan to save the woman he once knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The quote is from S6 ‘You Can’t Handle the Truth’.

Castiel was tired of war. He’d been embroiled in one war or another for a very long time and it’d be nice if just once there could be some sort of peace. He’d made enough allies to dictate some tasks, but this one he was currently engaged in was one he only trusted to himself. He’d been following the trail of one of Raphael’s favorite generals, sometimes almost catching up with him and other times hitting the path when it was almost cold. The one he followed would practically run from place to place, backtracking, and generally trying to shake Cas from his tail, but Castiel was persistent. He knew the angel was important to Raphael.

It was comforting to know he was annoying Raphael’s supporters with his tactics. Annoyed angels, like annoyed people, tended to make mistakes. He planned to be there when one of them, hopefully this one, made a mistake. They needed something to turn the tide from this neck and neck balanced fight they were in. All it would take was one misstep on either side to start that.

He touched down in a small town on the east coast. It was a picturesque place. Dean would have made a crack about Norman Rockwell. Castiel knew what that one meant at least. Usually Dean’s jokes made no sense, as they were all cultural references angels _wouldn’t_ know. Most traditional angels anyway. There were quite a few like Balthazar who’d embraced the idea of living with humans in all ways. 

He searched for the trail, following it to a small diner in the center of town. There. The angel had gone inside and lingered there longer than he had anywhere else.

Interesting. Why here? What was important here that required a stop of more than the fraction of a section?

While it was late, the diner was still open. Castiel stood outside, continuing to wonder what had brought the angel here. Several possibilities went through his mind, both worst case scenarios and the opposite. Many things had ceased to surprise him these days. It was nothing for one of them to walk into a crowd of humans and dare their pursuer to take action. He was tired of Raphael’s tactics and just plain tired of Raphael. He’d come to think of Zachariah and Michael as bullies, but Raphael surpassed them both, using every dirty trick in the book to win this fight. Castiel rather thought Lucifer would have approved of Raphael at present.

He materialized inside. After a thorough search, he concluded the trail was now cold, turning to study the area a final time and make certain he wasn’t being misled. He accidentally jostled a table. The cups on the saucers rattled.

“Seat yourself. Wherever you like,” a feminine voice called from behind the door into the kitchen. 

The voice struck a chord of memory and he frowned. It couldn’t be. Castiel waited for the woman to step from the back and when she did, his eyes widened. Jo Harvelle. How was she alive? Dean and Sam had told him that she and Ellen died. He took a quick glance at her mind, puzzled by the presence of memories that didn’t match what he knew of her. It was a mystery that he wanted to unravel, for she was indeed Jo Harvelle.

The color of her eyes was a precise match to Jo’s, the arch of her brows and the curve of her lips the same as Jo’s, and a glance showed him that her physical measurements were exact as well. He knew her. This woman was Jo without one doubt.

Cas sat at a booth in the back of the room, where he could keep an eye on the area and her. For Dean and Sam, he thought he should investigate more closely. They were going to want to know about her and when he told them, he’d need to have all the information Dean would want. Besides, his own curiosity was piqued. Lifting the laminated menu shoved between the salt and pepper caddy and the wall, he opened it, pausing a second to wonder why the menu in these places was always sticky. Dean had told him it was something to do with small children and either jelly or syrup.

Jo brought a glass of water and set it down in front of him, along with a straw and silverware rolled in a paper napkin. She smiled. “Hi, I’m Jo. I’ll be your server tonight. Ready to order or do you need a minute to look at the menu?”

Her nametag was lopsided on her shirt and Castiel considered her name. It was her last name that was completely different. She thought herself to be Joanna Elizabeth Dunn instead of Joanna Beth Harvelle. A made-up name and life for a woman whose real life had been cut short. “I’m ready.”

She fished a pad of paper and pencil from her apron pocket. “What would you like?”

“Coffee.” A drink Dean often ordered. It was warm and since the night was chilly for humans, he concluded a normal customer would order it. He wanted to be a normal customer, not to alarm her or make her suspicious. 

“Anything else?”

He blinked. He hadn’t really looked at the menu, but he’d observed that most of these places served meatloaf. Jimmy had liked meatloaf. He’d always enjoyed Amelia’s recipe for it. Castiel thought he might try it since he was going to be here awhile sorting Jo out. “Meatloaf.” Once he’d ascertained what was wrong, he’d fix it, if he was able, then be on his way.

“Mashed potatoes and gravy?”

“Yes.”

“Green beans okay? We ran out of the mixed veggies earlier.”

“Fine.”

“Salad and rolls?”

“Yes.”

“Dressing on the salad?” When he tried to think of an answer, she glanced up from the pad. “French, Thousand Island, Italian, Blue Cheese, Ranch, honey mustard?”

“Thousand Island.” He didn’t know what it tasted like, nor did he care, but it sounded interesting. Dean never ate salad and Sam never chose Thousand Island when he had salad. At least not when Castiel was with them. Sam would say he was being adventurous by trying it and good for him. Dean would say it was a means to an end, that he wouldn’t be eating for enjoyment, so it didn’t matter, and couldn’t he at least try to want to try something? Food was a pleasure. Even now, after all the time Dean had known him, he still tried to get Castiel to enjoy human things.

A sliver of sadness pierced through him. Once, he’d begun to enjoy some of those human things and while he’d retained an appreciation for them, he rarely had the opportunity these days to indulge. War wasn’t the time to relax, though he’d dearly love to. He despised being pulled in several different directions at once. It was wearying being in charge and sometimes he wanted to find Sam and Dean and have a few beers with them. Kick back and talk about something other than duty and war. Though there had been few in reality, he missed the days of doing just that with them, learning how to be a friend. 

“Okay.” She smiled. He’d always found her smiles to be attractive and this one still was. “I’ll get that turned right in. Holler if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at her nametag, “Jo.”

He attempted to engage her in conversation, drawing out his visit to this locale as he worked his way through a long meal. It took most of his concentration to keep all of Dean and Sam’s advice on conversations in mind, difficult since he wasn’t used to conversing with humans very often, at least not on the level he was attempting at present. Fortunately, his occasional stammers seemed to only amuse her. He even order a few desserts, noting that Dean would approve of the pie. Since it was only him as the customer, Jo seemed inclined to chat awhile -- only not on herself specifically. Every remotely personal question brought an abrupt change of topic and a fresh inquiry from her on where he was from and what his business in the area was.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Castiel. Cas to my close friends.”

“Got a last name?” She brought the check, setting it down on the table and studying him.

He set his hand on hers before she could move it and began to actively dig in her mind, staring up at her.

He was able to discover a few facts in the barest fraction of a second. The good news was that she didn’t appear to be physically damaged. Her movements were lithe, athletic, and very graceful, her body in excellent condition. He peered more closely at her recent memories, quickly viewing the ones of her naked in the bathroom of her apartment, getting ready to take a shower -- not doing it with salacious intent, only to ascertain the depth of injury she’d retained upon her resurrection. He focused on her side, noting a slim scar about the width of a knife blade. It didn’t look like the original would have been of the life threatening variety, unlike the wounds that had actually killed her. The scar indicated a wound with much pain and bleeding, deep enough to have needed stitches, but not enough to kill her. Whoever had brought her back had taken care to leave nothing like what she should have had from the hellhound.

His observations took less than ten seconds. 

“Let go of me. Let go!” Jo tried to pull her hand away and Castiel gripped her wrist. “Please!”

He felt her burst of panic and tried to hurry, digging deeper, starting with what she did remember. He was saddened to see the story she’d been given for her life, as it had none of the warmth and love her real life had had. Instead, he saw a series of tragic events that were designed to leave her feeling desperate, helpless, and very afraid of what fate might bring her next. He pressed on still, ignoring her startled gasp when he found the thread that led to her real memories. It had been buried deep inside the lies.

Jo gripped the edge of the table with her other hand and let out a cry. Her knees buckled.

Castiel moved, catching her as she slid to the ground and lost consciousness, drawing back from her mind as he embraced her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. It wasn’t _supposed_ to hurt. He’d never hurt anyone before with it, yet this time he’d caused real pain. He held her gently, grimacing with regret for that pain and for what he’d found. It was no nameless angel who’d done this to her. He’d gotten far enough along that broken path to her real memories to see a glimpse of Zachariah in her freshest one. He was the last thing she’d seen.

Castiel carefully set her in the booth, arranged her into a semi-comfortable position, took care of the bill, and left. While he lamented that burst of pain to her, he didn’t regret the information he’d discovered.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo wasn’t sure she liked the way the stranger was looking at her. His blue eyes seemed impossibly blue in shade, the intensity of that stare searing through her so fully that she felt stripped bare clear to her soul. There was something different about this man.

She took his order and turned it in, then turned her back to prepare a fresh pot of coffee, willing it to drip slower by some miracle so she could delay going to his table. Jo glanced back at him. For a second when she’d walked out from the kitchen, he’d seemed familiar, so much so that she could almost see him sitting across from her at a table, those eyes alight with enjoyment and a bit of wonder. A name had been on the tip of her tongue, there and quickly gone.

He was handsome enough she supposed, with tousled dark hair, a straight nose, nice mouth, sculptured cheekbones, and light stubble on his jaw, but she had no specific memory to account for that familiar feel. He looked old enough that they couldn’t have gone to high school together, but maybe he’d attended the college she’d gone to? Maybe he’d been a student or even a professor for the two years she’d attended? It was going to bug her until she figured out how she knew him, for she didn’t doubt that she _did_ know him somehow.

When the coffee was ready, she took the pot over and poured a cup. As she brought his meal and came back to check on him, he was almost chatty, which seemed somehow wrong for him. It was sweet and a bit charming when he’d start to ask something very seriously and suddenly stammer over a word, almost like he wasn’t used to talking to women. But those two qualities didn’t last when his questions became leading ones that put a slight fear in her mind. He wanted to know about her family, where she was from, and while they were normal questions that she got all the time, she felt on edge by him asking and by the very way he’d gone about it -- engendering a sort of camaraderie between them, attempting to lull her into a sense of casual flirtatiousness.

Who was he? Why was he asking questions, especially _those_ questions?

That slight fear grew when he refused to answer her own questions, giving her a name for himself, but nothing she could check on. Castiel. While familiar, she couldn’t find out who he was without more than that. A dark thought niggled in the back of her mind. What if he was working for _him_? What if this man had been sent to track her down and soon she’d have her psycho ex showing up to drag her back?

Jo quickly wrote out the check with shaking hands and took it to him, her fear turning to alarm when he placed his hand on hers. It was only her and Marie closing up tonight. Tuesdays were always slow and they never had any trouble. What if he tried something?

He looked up at her, eyes narrowing, and Jo had the sense that he really was seeing inside her somehow. She tried to pull away and he grasped her wrist instead, sparking a memory of another time.

__

\-- Her hand on the bar, trapped beneath her ex’s, his voice coaxing, trying to convince her he was more to her and always would be. A concerned tilt to his brow, handsome features arranged in a caring expression. He’d be there for her, he’d take care of her, he’d never let anything bad happen to her, so why was she being difficult? It didn’t have to be like this. She’d told him to go and he’d seemed to accept it, but as soon as she’d turned away with relief that this time it would be different, he’d grabbed her, turned her, assaulted her right there in her workplace. -- 

Her ex was the bad thing. He’d known just when to be so sweet and understanding, like when she’d had a fight with her parents. The violence had only erupted when she’d tried to stand up to him on anything. He’d always claimed he knew what was right for her. In the memory that reared up, that violence had ended with her tied up in her apartment for hours until she’d agreed to go back to him, nursing a concussion from how hard he’d slammed her head onto the bar to knock her out. 

It had been a long time before she’d gathered her courage to run from him again.

There was a sharp jab of pain in her temple, the sort of pain that took the control of her limbs from her. She’d had many occasions to feel pains like that with her ex and wondered what this man was doing to her and how he was doing it when he only had hold of her wrist. She let loose an involuntary cry, reaching for the table, feeling the pain slide along her body as consciousness fled from her to leave her distressingly helpless once more.

When she woke, only a few minutes had passed. The man was gone and he’d left an exact twelve percent tip with the payment of his meal.

Jo finished her shift, helped to close, and spent the entire short walk home looking over her shoulder. It wouldn’t be the first time that psycho had hired someone to find her. If he came for her this time, she had a few surprises in store for him. She’d been taking self-defense classes and had learned how to shoot a gun. Hell, her instructor had called her a natural. Plus, she had friends here, people who’d taken the time to draw her out of that shell she’d been in, and she’d gone to counseling. She knew he was the one with head trouble, not her. He was the one with a screw loose.

Once safely in her apartment, with the door locked and windows checked, Jo took a long shower. She shivered and shook beneath the hot spray, turning the tap as far as she could in an attempt to get warm. Thinking about _him_ always made her feel cold and strange, unsettled, like she’d forgotten something important about them together. When she stepped out and dried off, her fingers lingered for a moment on the scar on her side. Another mark of his upon her.

She pulled on pajamas and curled up in bed under the covers. With any luck, she wouldn’t dream. The last thing she wanted was to dream of Dean Winchester. 

~~~~~~~~~~

With all of the crap that had been in his life in the past few months, it was nice to take a break with Sam and see a few sights instead of seeing the underbelly of the world. They were taking a few weeks off and getting to know each other again. They used to have a good relationship and he thought if they tried, they could regain some of what they’d once had. The love, friendship, and trust. Knowing each other so well they could predict how the other one would react. It was going to be a long road, but they were going down it together. Maybe their relationship hadn’t been perfect -- whose was? -- but it had been good, contrary to Lisa’s hurtful words that day long ago. Those words still rang in his mind, a stark reminder that she hadn’t really understood the things he’d told her about Sam and himself. She’d never ‘gotten’ him the way he’d thought she had.

__

You two have the most unhealthy, tangled up, crazy thing that I've ever seen, and as long as he's in your life, you're never gonna be happy.  
  
He and Sam did have a messed up, crazy relationship, but it was _their_ messed up, crazy relationship and, in their world, it was normal. He wouldn’t exactly call it healthy either, but she’d been very wrong about him never being happy with Sam in his life. The only time he _was_ happy was with Sam in his life. When Sam was safe and alive, he was fine. The problem was, when Sam was gone, he was a mess and he didn’t need anyone to point that out to him. Who didn’t have issues, right? He sort of worried about anyone who _wouldn’t_ die for family. Parents often said they’d die for their children to protect them. How was that wrong? How was that sick and twisted?

It was Bobby who’d suggested they take off, let their phones go to voicemail, and get to know who they’d become. Of course, he’d probably suggested it because they’d been driving him nuts….

Dean finished getting dressed while Sam was in the shower and right when he reached for his shoes, his phone rang. He glanced at it, curious who it was and not really intending to answer it. It was Castiel. Dean ignored the phone rules they’d set up and answered. He wondered if Cas was going to appear this time or not. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. “Cas. Hey.”

“Dean.”

“What’s up?”

“I have something to tell you.” He appeared in front of Dean, ending the call. His expression was wary and even sad.

“Whoa. Why the face? Who died?”

“It’s not about who died, but who should have died and apparently didn’t.” The sadness increased to an extent that it even started to freak Dean out a little.

“Spit it out.”

Castiel sighed and straightened a bit more as if to brace himself. “I’ve found Jo Harvelle. She’s alive, Dean. She apparently didn’t spend long in heaven.”

His throat seemed to close up, his legs felt weak, and Dean stumbled back to sit heavily on the end of the bed. His hands began to shake. “Jo?” Jo was dead. Had been since 2009. He covered his mouth with a hand for a few seconds, then gripped then edge of the mattress with both hands. “You’re sure it was her? Maybe she’s got a twin out there somewhere. I’ve heard everyone does --”

“Yes, it’s Jo. She’s a unique woman in many ways. If I hadn’t been following one of Raphael’s generals, I wouldn’t have found her. He led me right to her. It is her.”

There were hundreds of questions circling in his mind. How was she? Why didn’t she call? If she’d been brought back, surely she’d known how much it would have meant to him, Sam, and Bobby to let them know? That she hadn’t called hurt and he understood how Ellen must have felt when he hadn’t called her after getting out of hell. A tiny part of him wondered if he would have gone to Jo instead of Lisa if he’d known she was alive, but he pushed it away. What had happened had happened. There was no changing it. “How? Was it God?”

“I don’t believe so. I think she was put in place for a specific reason.”

“What reason would that be?”

“I don’t know. Her memories are intact in her mind, but the connection to them has been shredded. The memories she has access to are all planted.” He glanced at the empty whiskey bottle on the dresser, gaze lingering there as though he wondered if Dean had drunk it all himself. “She has Zachariah’s marks all over her. He brought her back and I’m uncertain why. Perhaps with ideas of using her against you. I suspect Raphael may have put him up to it, since it was one of his generals I was following.”

“Shredded? Planted memories? Are you sure?” How on earth could Zachariah have thought to use Jo against him? For that matter, how could Raphael? Had the angel Cas had been following been sent to check on her?

“I’m sure. I ate a full meal and several desserts to stay long enough to fully ascertain her mental state. Jo has her memories, she simply can’t access the proper ones correctly.”

“Is it fixable?” Castiel’s pause before answering made a sick lurching sensation occur in his stomach.

“Perhaps. What was done to her is different than what Zachariah did to you and Sam. He never shredded the connections to your real memories. With Jo, the disconnection is almost complete. There may be something that can trigger a return of comprehension, but I don’t know what it is. Seeing you and Sam before her might be enough. Until that return of memory happens, she’ll believe the lies that were put into her mind.” He looked down at the floor. “It’s not a good life they made her believe she’s had, Dean. They gave her a life of fear and pain, with little love and warmth. They’ve destroyed who she is…was, taken away everyone she ever trusted.”

“Where is she?”

Castiel gave him the information he had on her. Name, address, phone, work address. The location was all the way across the U.S.. It’d take days to get there, but maybe if he and Sam drove in shifts they could get there in half the time. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that and Dean wanted to get to Jo as soon as possible.

“Thanks, Cas.” His mind churned with plans.

“She may be easy to upset at first. I suggest Sam speak to her before you do.”

“Sure. We’ll figure it out.”

“Her memories --”

“Yeah, I got it. Shredded. Thanks.”

Castiel opened his mouth as though to say something else, then twitched on brow and closed his mouth. He vanished with the faint sound of fluttering wings.

The bathroom door opened, a cloud of steam swirling. Sam stepped out, a towel wrapped around him. He went to his bag and laid out some clothes. “Did I hear Cas out here?”

“Sure did.” 

“What’d he want?”

He tapped the motel pad of paper against his palm. “You might want to sit down for this, Sam.”

Sam frowned. “Can I get dressed first?” Once he was dressed, he sat on the end of one bed. “Okay, I’m sitting. What bomb did Castiel have for us this time?”

Dean looked down at the paper. He thought about Jo, alone and alive, without a clue as to who she really was and all of her real life gone. He couldn’t let that stand; let that fearless woman she’d been disappear beneath angelic lies. This was what he knew, what he was good at: helping people that needed it and Jo needed their help. “We’re going to Rhode Island, Sam.” He held out the paper. “Take a look.”

“Why?” Sam took it, looked at it. “Is this a case?”

“It’s more than a case. It’s Jo.”

He stared at the paper, quiet a long moment. “Jo died, Dean. Jo and Ellen both.”

“Cas says no. I think we should go see her, check it out. I’ll explain as we drive.” For a moment, he was afraid Sam would say to let her be and he’d have to go alone, but then Sam was nodding, agreeing.

“Okay, we’ll go. She gave up her life for us. The least we can do is make sure she’s okay now.”

They packed up, checked out, ate breakfast, and were on their way by ten-thirty. 

~~~~~~~~~~

If the man who’d been in the diner was an investigator working for Dean, Dean would know where Jo was by now. That thought both terrified her and relieved her. It terrified her because he would come after her and relieved her because she was tired of always watching for him. It’d be nice to have it all over for good.

In her fantasies, she shot him in the head and that was that. No more Dean. In reality, she knew it was going to be a bit harder. He wasn’t going to stand still and let her shoot him. She was going to have to be ready.

Jo tidied her apartment, checked to make sure her gun was handy, and hated that she had to always be looking over her shoulder for him. He was the ex that wouldn’t go away and if he knew where she was, it’d be a week at most before he was showing up and destroying this nice life she’d worked hard to have here. So did she go ahead and run away on the chance that man _was_ working for him? Or did she stay and stand her ground if he did come for her? She was tired of running. There had to come a point where she took back control of her life.

She would have thought he’d have found a new woman to target after three years, but maybe not. There were always nuts out there who fixated on one person. She’d been reading online just the other day about some poor actor and his wife who’d been the target of a person claiming to be married to him. The nut had fake articles to make her case and several sock puppet accounts on various sites to support her claims. Jo had read the posts and stories with a growing feeling of disgust for the perpetrator and an empathy for the actor and his wife, since she had her own nutcase after her.

Her dreams during the week were not nice, soothing things, but rather nightmares of those things that had happened to her, all mixed up in a horror movie format. She dreamed of vampires and of Dean. That one was a no-brainer. It probably meant that she felt he was sucking her life away. But the rest confused her. Demons, werewolves, ghosts and other creatures were mixed in, along with people she didn’t recognize: a honey haired older woman and a tall, dark haired man about her own age. In her dreams, Jo knew both of them and in one dream the woman hugged her with affection and warmth and called her, ‘sweetie’. She’d woken crying that time, saddened though she didn’t understand why. 

Consequently, she didn’t get much sleep and felt like a zombie walking through her shifts.

It was her only excuse for being surprised when, nearly ten days after the mystery man had appeared, Dean finally showed up.


	2. Chapter 2

Jo’s apartment wasn’t a standard building. It was an old house divided into four apartments, with two up and two down. It didn’t appear anyone was there. Sam slipped around to the back, keeping close to the hedge. There was a porch along the back of the house, upper and lower. He took the stairs up. Jo’s apartment was the one on the left. There was a dim light on in the kitchen. Sam let himself in and looked around, taking his time. He knew she was at work and, he took a quick glance at his watch, Dean should be going in to see her, give or take a few minutes and depending on how long he sat or stood outside watching her. 

They’d both sat outside the diner yesterday and all day today, watching her, reassuring themselves that it was her, and reminiscing about her, preparing themselves for whatever they’d find. Dean had remembered a few things he hadn’t and vice-versa. Slightly naïve Jo. Spitfire Jo. Determined and hell-on-wheels Jo. Confident in her own skin Jo. Differing facets of one woman. As a consequence, Sam was as enthusiastic to talk to her again as Dean was. 

He’d lost the rock-paper-scissors to be the one to go in the diner. They’d played five times, Sam deliberately letting Dean win in the end only because Dean was so eager to see her. He’d hardly stopped talking about her during the long drive, musings on her current circumstances, memories of the past, and beneath it all had been the hope that her being alive meant he might get that chance he’d never gotten with her before she’d died.

It wasn’t too difficult to read between the lines there, not when Dean had been actively trying to redefine what the words ‘normal life’ meant to hunters. They’d already had a few conversations on girlfriends and hunting and how the two could be managed if they ever, by some chance, found women who’d take them as they were. It _could_ be managed, they knew it could. They’d both seen hunting families. Chances were, however, whatever women they possibly ended up with would need to be hunters themselves, or at least part of a hunting family.

Jo was both of those things.

Fervently, Sam hoped that reunion with Jo went the way Dean wanted it to, all smiles and hugs. It’d be nice for something to go right for them, but he didn’t think their luck would change now. The circumstances surrounding her resurrection indicated strongly that their luck wasn’t going to change. In fact, Sam was pretty sure every thing that could go wrong was going to. He was ready for that. Hopefully, Dean was too, because Sam strongly thought they were going to have to force Jo to go with them; that she wasn’t going to go quietly or with any sort of enthusiasm.

The apartment was small: living room, bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. There weren’t many belongings scattered about the rooms and the furniture had a motel style look to it. Bland. Average. This could have been a model home for all the real personality in each room. There was little art work on the walls or personal pictures. It was almost like Jo was prepared to leave quickly if need be. She didn’t keep many groceries, the cupboards and fridge almost bare. Sam looked over the selection, noting that she had a few bottles of that beer she’d liked on the bottom shelf of the fridge, which sparked an interesting question in his mind.

Was it just memories that had been changed or had her personal preferences been messed with as well? When Zachariah had done sort of the same thing to him and Dean, he’d chosen to mess with their personal preferences as well as the memories. From what he saw in the apartment, it looked like it was only her memories that were screwed up.

Sam went to the closet in the bedroom and opened it. She didn’t have many clothes there. A few blouses, jeans, jackets, and some obvious work shirts. In the dresser were t-shirts, tanks, underwear, socks and a couple zippered, hooded sweatshirts. With what he found in the clothes basket, he hypothesized that she had just enough clothes for a single week in any given season, pieces that could layer easily, like what he and Dean did.

Sam did find a gun, hidden away near her bed, studying it with a speculative stare. He bet her skills were as sharp as ever no matter what her memories. He took it and the bullets. 

In the bottom of the closet was an overnight bag. He set it on her bed and opened it, then slowly filled it. A couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts, her boots, the phone charger from the living room. He did it just in case Dean could talk her into going with them. It’d be nice to have Jo travel with them for a bit, get to know her again. She’d been a fun woman to be around and he thought they’d have a blast traveling across the U.S. with her.

He was wondering if he should pack toiletries and underwear or let her do it, when the front door opened and slammed shut. Sam slowly peered out of the bedroom. It was Jo. In a second, Sam knew something had gone horribly wrong. She was upset, fear on her face. Quickly, he withdrew into the shadows in the corner, trying to be very still as he listened to her cry.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was her. Thank God it was her.

Those thoughts had been a steady refrain in his mind for hours and he found it funny that he was actually having trouble deciding to go in and talk to her. He felt strangely shy, hesitant to start down the difficult path he suspected was ahead of them. It’d be great if this went easily, but when in his life had anything ever been easy? He was king of the hard road of life it seemed.

Dean watched Jo through the large front window. He could see her clearly. She was as slim as ever, her hair loose about her shoulders, and an apron tied low on her hips. She was cleaning a table, her back to the door. He hesitated a moment, trying to think of what words he should say, and went inside. She didn’t turn, continuing to bus the table.

“We’re closing up for the night. Sorry.”

“I’ll take a coffee to go then.”

Slowly she straightened, her back stiffening.

He smiled, wanting very much for her to turn and see him. Maybe just seeing him would bring all those memories back to her. “Jo?” He stepped closer, greatly desiring a glimpse of her pleased smile. It’d go a long way to easing the pain he’d felt at her death to see that sassy grin of hers in person instead of on the ghost in his mind.

She turned, but it was anything but the pleasure of seeing a friend in her eyes. There was shock, confusion, and fear there, and for a brief fraction of a second, he thought she had recognized him as her friend on some level. Fear though? Jo had never been afraid of him. Why was she? 

No, not just afraid he realized with a jolt. Terrified. She seemed to pale under the fluorescent lights, her dark eyes a sharp contrast to her skin. He recalled Cas saying something about Zachariah giving her the memory of a bad life, but what in those memories caused that expression? _Especially_ directed towards him?

“Dean.” Her gulp was audible. “What…What’re you doing here?” Her voice broke in the middle of the query.

“Came to see you.” He frowned, gaze doing a thorough tour of her, then the diner around them.

“How did you find me this time?”

This time? “An angel told me.” The mention of an angel did nothing. There was no indication that phrase meant anything to her. He raised his brows. “Angel?”

She dropped the cloth in her hand and retreated, stumbling in her haste, knocking over the plates and glasses stacked to one side of the table. They fell to the ground with a crash, plates and glasses splintering into pieces. She jumped back out of the way, made a hissing noise, and glanced at the door into the kitchen.

Dean moved forward, intending on taking her arm and making sure she hadn’t gotten cut by any of those pieces, but she continued back, his hand grasping at thin air. “Are you hurt?” She didn’t answer and he stepped over the mess, following Jo around the counter. As he rounded the end, he noticed a blown up picture of him tacked to the beam by the register with a scrawled message that said ‘shoot on sight’ beneath it. What the hell? It made him stop in his tracks, looking from it to her. “What’s that?” He pointed to it.

A very large man barreled through the door into the kitchen with a shotgun, followed quickly by a smaller man, also armed.

He made a mental note to chew out that angel of his acquaintance who hadn’t bothered to tell him any of this and had only a few seconds before the second man swung at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

A surging of pure joy warmed Jo at the sound of Dean’s voice and she turned to face him, her gut urging her to go to him and embrace him even as her mind screamed at her to run away before he hurt her.

Jo told her gut to screw off and beat a hasty retreat from him.

“Run, Jo!”

She needed no encouragement as Jake and Alan started towards Dean, hurrying out the back and into the alley. They could be counted on to keep him busy long enough for her to escape. Her heart thudded almost painfully in her chest, her stomach trying to crawl out her throat. That confusing reaction she’d had to seeing Dean sickened her. She hated him, knew she hated him, so how could she be happy to see him?

Maybe she _was_ screwed in the head a little.

She slammed the door to her apartment and locked it, leaning against it for several minutes, trying to catch her breath. Jo sobbed and slid to the ground, tears clouding her vision. She cried for long minutes and when the flood of tears slowed, she pushed herself back to stand, legs shaky beneath her. She started towards the kitchen, glancing to her right into her bedroom as she passed the door. Jo stopped walking and backed up. Her lower lip trembled.

There.

On her bed was her overnight bag, open and with clothes in it.

Dean had been there in her apartment.

“No,” she moaned. It was all over. This place was no longer a safe refuge. She was going to have to run and move quickly before he caught up to her again.

She hurried to it only to see a movement out of the corner of her eye. Jo whirled, expecting attack. The man from her dreams stood there, the one with the shaggy brown hair and understanding expression. His hair was different and he looked older than in her dreams. His gaze was apologetic.

He held his hands out at his sides in a non-threatening gesture, showing her he had no weapons. “Hey, Jo.”

Sam, she thought. His name is Sam. “Sam,” she whispered. But how did she know that? There was a flash of strange memory then, one at odds with her mind. She recalled him, not Dean, grabbing her in that bar and slamming her head down. Jo shook her head. Wrong, it was wrong. She didn’t know him, had never met him. With a whimper, she whirled….

And ran right into Dean coming towards her from the living room. He’d apparently picked the lock.

Her throat wouldn’t loose those screams she wanted to vocalize, only a dry whisper slipping free. His hands grasped her arms and he shook her.

“Calm down! Jo, just calm do--”

With blind terror, Jo kicked her leg out and, satisfied to hear his grunt of pain as her foot connected with his shin. One hand release her and she punched him as hard as she could. The contact hurt her hand, her knuckles throbbing. “Oh, you mother fu --” She got in another kick to his shins for good measure, the rest of the expletive muttered under her breath.

Dean stumbled back, releasing her, his hands going to his eyes and nose. “Damn it! I can’t see now! Shit! Sam!” 

Sam, however, grabbed her from behind, lifting her, his embrace so tight her breath whooshed from her, black spots dancing on the edge of her vision. Jo twisted, attempting to kick, to hit, to anything that might gain her freedom. Unfortunately, he was so tall in comparison to her that all the head tossing in the world wasn’t going to connect her head with his face.

Don’t let them bring you down, she told herself. It was advice her self-defense instructor had given. Never let a man get you onto the ground because once you’re down, there’s a good chance you’re not getting back up and if you do, it won’t be in a good condition.

She heard her own voice in a keening cry, still not a scream, as she tried to fight Sam’s hold. He turned. Her feet found the wall and she kicked at it. They fell hard and with a crash, knocking over a chair in the process. If her neighbor downstairs was home, he’d be calling the police right now. She _hoped_ he was calling the police because she’d love to have Dean locked up for breaking and entering and assault. She’d press any charges they’d let her against him.

Jo was stunned for a few seconds from the fall, but not as much as Sam would be from getting the floor to his back combined with her weight on his front. She wiggled free and flipped onto her hands and knees. Just as she moved to stand, Dean was back, pulling her arms behind her. She felt cold metal on her wrists and knew that this was it.

He’d caught her. Again.

A desperate, defeated cry left her. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when he gagged her, too. Jo winced, still kneeling, bracing herself for the feel of his fist and the angry words he’d let loose in her ear, waiting to be thrown to the ground, punched hard in the stomach to where it felt like she’d forgotten how to breathe. She waited for retribution.

It didn’t happen. What Dean _did_ do confused her. He embraced her in a tender fashion, his hands gentle, holding her tight, her face pressed to his chest. She smelled fabric softener, a hint of soap, and aftershave. “I’m sorry, Jo,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you in cuffs, but you’ll understand eventually.”

To her left, Sam coughed and groaned, slowly sitting up. “Oh geez, that hurt.” He looked at them, chin jerking up a little. “Since when do you carry cuffs on you?” He rubbed his chest.

“Since I realized she wasn’t going to come quietly and there’s no going back.” One hand raised, stroked her hair and it felt like he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I was afraid this would happen.”

“You should get some ice on that eye.”

“Yeah, I know. Take her.”

She was transferred from Dean to Sam, Sam helping her up and to the couch with an incongruous, solicitous air. In the kitchen, she heard the rattle of ice cube trays as Dean got ice. He was back in a minute, holding a makeshift ice pack to one eye.

“You know, Jo, this is the same place you hit the day we met. Makes me a little nostalgic. Hurts as much as I remember.” He shook a finger at her, expression almost playful. “You’ve got one helluva punch.”

“Good,” she spat around the gag, though she didn’t recall ever punching him and certainly not the day they’d met. This had been the first time she’d literally fought him. Never before had she so much as slapped at him, yet in one night, she’d punched him and kicked him twice. It was empowering -- as long as he didn’t return the gestures.

Sam sat beside her, touching her cheek, trying to get her attention on to him. “Jo? Jo, look at me a minute.”

With reluctance, she pulled her gaze from Dean.

“I’m going to lower the gag. Please don’t scream. Okay?”

It was apparent to her that making any noise was useless. If her neighbors were home, they would have been banging on the door by now. She nodded and he lowered the gag.

“You do know me?”

She nodded, even though she didn’t know how she knew him. “Your name.” Her mouth was already dry from the gag despite the short while with it.

“First name?”

“Sam.” The name came easily now.

“Last?”

Try as she might, it wouldn’t come to her, frustratingly on the tip of her tongue and no further. “I don’t…. I don’t remember it.”

He gestured at Dean. “His name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Interesting. You recall Dean’s name and not mine.”

She glanced at Dean across the room. His worried stare was unsettling. “You don’t have to do this,” Jo whispered to Sam. “It’s assault. It’s…it’s kidnapping. You don’t have to help him.”

His hand raised again, thumb stroking her cheek. “It’s not Dean I’m helping, Jo. It’s _you._ ”

Sweet sentiment. The bonds and that gag he put back on her then ruined it, however.

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel’s phone buzzed a discreet, barely there low buzz in his pocket. Dean or Sam, he wondered, flipping a mental coin and coming up with Dean. Actually, usually, it was Dean calling. He pulled it out and looked at the phone. Dean. As he debated answering it, it went to voicemail. Castiel began counting. At fifteen, it buzzed again. He accepted the call and before he could even get a standard greeting out, Dean was making it plain that he’d ignored Cas’s advice to let Sam speak to Jo initially. That immediately put him in a fouler mood than he was already in.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation despite having known that’s exactly what would happen. Why did they do that? Why did they sometimes completely disregard his observations? He _did_ tell them things for a _reason_ , which they’d know if they bothered to listen to him on occasion.

He hadn’t told Dean about the details of Jo’s memories mostly because he knew that in order to understand her situation to the fullest, Dean needed to see her worst reaction to his presence. He needed to witness just how frightened she was so that he might understand the scope of what had been done to her and handle her with some gentleness. He also hadn’t been certain that seeing Sam and Dean wouldn’t bring her true memories rushing back, thus negating those false ones. A two-part reason for not telling him. 

Besides, Dean had stopped listening by that point in the conversation anyway and even if Castiel had managed to tell him, he didn’t think Dean would have heard the words. He did that a lot and not only to Cas. He also did it to Bobby. From experience, Cas had known it was futile to try to tell Dean anything else right then. 

Sometimes, both Dean and Sam both were far too single-minded and downright thick. Not to mention that they behaved like he was their personal go-to angel, there for them to call upon for answers to everything. Did he look like the embodiment of all knowledge? Hadn’t they learned yet that there really were some things he simply didn’t know? Obviously not, as he continually had to remind them of that fact. Still, they persisted. Was he not speaking English? Castiel would swear he did.

Frankly, he missed those days of Dean mentoring him in the ways of humanity as he’d slowly fallen towards it. Not the falling part of course, but that camaraderie, that friendship that had built. He longed for that. Even then, though, they’d looked his way for answers, as if having been an angel meant he’d had access to all knowledge. He had no idea where that assumption had come from. Was it because sometimes he _had_ had the arcane knowledge they’d needed? Both of them should understand research -- especially Sam. The knowledge had come from doing research into things that interested him.

He tuned back in to the conversation. Dean was wanting to know where he was and why he wasn’t there watching over Jo.

Castiel glanced around him, taking in the muddy ground that had the distinct smell of pig excrement and the three angels sprawled there in it, bloody and temporarily unconscious. He stepped over one prone body and through the gate, walking away from the battle he’d finished moments before Dean’s first call. 

How did he explain that while Jo may be a big deal to them, to Cas, she was barely a blip on angelic radar; a puzzle to be studied in off moments, like some humans did crossword puzzles? Her resurrection didn’t concern him except in the sense that the other side may or may not have had plans for her and may or may not still have plans for her. She was important to Sam and Dean, not to Castiel. At least not until he had confirmation of current plans for the use of her. Until that moment occurred, however, she was merely a curiosity he would ponder.

Dean would take that badly, mention her death and all that, and not understand the big picture Castiel faced. The _really_ big picture. As in ‘heaven’s civil war that would eventually affect all of humanity if it wasn’t stopped’ big picture. Dean had an amazingly narrow view of reality at times. Castiel really did feel like they were both speaking English, but one of them wasn’t fully understanding what the words meant and it certainly wasn’t _him_. 

And they thought him dim because he didn’t understand some human behavior or a few of those bad jokes Dean made. He knew they were jokes and that they were indeed bad. Did he need to understand why they were jokes? 

The truth was, Dean Winchester took Castiel for granted, and he’d had about enough of that. He’d let it go on far longer than he would have from anyone else, which he thought showed how well he liked Dean. As much as he liked, even loved Dean, would it kill him to say ‘thank you, Cas, you’ve been a great help’? Oh no, what he got was ’gimme, gimme, gimme’ without the courtesy of a thank-you.

And now he wanted Castiel to look for Ellen in his _ton_ of spare time.

Not like he was fighting a war against almost insurmountable odds or anything, right?

Dean Winchester was not the center of the universe and certainly not the center of Castiel’s. Cas had just as many, if not more pressing, problems as Dean did to face and Dean just didn’t _get_ it.

Frustrating really.

And it only ever got more so. Sadly.

He concluded the call and was on his way long before his opponents would wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

What the hell could Castiel possibly be doing that it took him this long to answer the friggin’ phone? He was angry that Cas hadn’t told him Jo’s memories, letting him go in cold, thinking it wasn’t too bad. Plus, he was worried about Jo. She kept looking at him like she thought he was going to throw her down and have at her one way or another. Not the sort of looks he’d ever gotten from her. 

Dean adjusted the ice pack on his face, tried calling again, and was rewarded this time with Cas actually picking up. He started talking. “You know, you could have warned me about the big ole picture of me with the ‘shoot on sight’ sign across the bottom of it!”

“I assumed you’d be a quicker draw.”

“Quicker dr…. Cas.”

“You’re a hunter, Dean. They aren’t. You’re experienced. They aren’t.”

“Yeah. But more than hunters can be damn good shots.”

There was silence and then, “Oh.”

“Oh? _Oh_? While I appreciate the vote of confidence, a heads-up would have been nice.”

“My apologies.” His voice didn’t sound apologetic, he sounded distracted. “I assume you’re not injured?”

Not by either of the men anyway, he thought with a sour glance at the closed door to Jo’s bathroom and at Sam waiting outside. It had taken a panicked woman to hurt him. “I’m fine. You looked in her memories, right? Care to tell me why she’s afraid of me and why that large guy with the shotgun in the diner wants me dead?” There was silence again, a long enough one that Dean thought Cas had hung up on him. “Cas,” he prompted.

“I’m here, Dean.”

“What, did you go through a dead zone? Spill.”

“She thinks you’re her ex-boyfriend.”

“And what does she think I did to her?”

There was another moment of silence. 

“Tell me, Castiel.”

When he spoke, his voice was blunt. “You’re the former lover who won’t go away, tracking her down, bringing her back, using violence to threaten her, both physical and emotional tactics. You alienated her from family, friends, and she’s been running from you for years. She believes she managed to get away in 2009 long enough to start a new life. I did tell you it wasn’t a good life they gave her.” 

Dean swallowed hard, Jo’s expression making horrible sense now. His free hand curled into a fist around the makeshift icepack, knuckles whitening. A sense of outrage on Jo’s behalf began to grow inside him. He’d like kill Zachariah a second time and if Raphael was involved, he’d like to kill him too. The bastards had taken away who she was and turned her into someone who was far from the fearless Jo he’d known. “You let me go in alone with Jo thinking I abused her every way under the sun? What the hell’s wrong with you, Cas? She could have really killed me!”

“She’s no memory of her hunting skills, Dean. I sincerely doubt she would have managed to injure you and if you’ll recall, I did tell you to let Sam speak to her first.” 

He snorted. His face proved that theory of her inability to injure him wrong. “She’s highly dangerous with or without her memories. Where _are_ you anyway? I thought you’d be here watching her, making sure she didn’t go anywhere.”

“You have her details. If she’d left, you would have been able to find her using them. I’ve seen you do it before. I decided she was safe where she was.”

“What about Ellen? You find any trace of her anywhere? You’re looking for her, right? Tell me you’ve found some sign of her.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Of course. I’ll be following her trail the next few days. Might even be weeks. Depends on where it leads.”

Weeks to follow a trail? When Castiel could search an entire town in a blink? Whatever. “You think Zach only brought Jo back?”

“I don’t know what to think. I’ll contact you when I have information.” The ‘not before’ part was heavily implied.

“Alright. We’re going to head towards Bobby’s, take the long route and hit a few places Jo might remember.” Namely, the site where the Roadhouse had once stood, the house she’d grown up in, and her father’s grave. If he could think of anything else, they’d include it as well.

“I suggest you skip a visit to Carthage,” was Castiel’s dry suggestion before he hung up.

He ended the call, put the phone in his pocket and sat on Jo’s couch. He’d had a horrible feeling they’d need to steal her away, but Cas’s explanation made gaining her trust very hard, especially since they _were_ going to take her with them against her will. Dean had already made up his mind. Jo had to go with them to see any thing that might bring back her real memories. Or any person. It was simply how it had to be. 

She was going to be suspicious of every move he made. Maybe it’d be best if he let Sam take care of her on this trip. She didn’t seem to be scared to death of Sam, only him.

Dean leaned his head back. This journey was going to be painful for all of them one way or another. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel’s quote is from S5 ‘Abandon All Hope’.

Sitting there on her couch, Jo became uncomfortably aware that terror did make a person have to pee. She contemplated that fact with disgust and realized she had to let them know before she was desperate. Jo cleared her throat, gaining Sam and Dean’s attention. “Bathroom,” she asked them through the gag.

“Right.” Sam helped her up. “No funny business.”

What funny business could she possibly get into? The only window in there was too small for anything but a cat to get through. She may be somewhat petite in stature but she wasn’t that small. It would be impossible for a grown woman to use it to flee and she didn’t have anything useful as a weapon in there that she could think of. At least not with two men, both very much larger than she was, to contend with.

“Window?” Dean took a few steps towards the bathroom door.

“Really small one. No way she can get out.”

“Okay then.” Dean tossed Sam the keys to the handcuffs and pulled out his phone.

Would he really have denied her the use of the bathroom if it had a window she could have gotten out of? Jo blinked. No, more likely he would have gone in with her, resulting in a very awkward moment for her.

At the bathroom door, Sam undid the cuffs. “Take your time,” he told her. “It’s okay.”

Jo lowered the gag. Okay? _Okay_? She was so far from okay that she wasn’t sure she’d ever see that again. Jo didn’t comment, going inside and closing the door. She took care of pressing matters first, then washed her face. The cool water felt good, that normal evening act helped to calm her racing pulse. She drew in deep breaths. 

Jo gripped the sides of the sink and stared at her reflection, wondering what was wrong with Dean. Aside from tying her up and gagging her, he wasn’t behaving like the man she’d known for years. He was acting like some stranger she’d never met. Holding her gently? Talking in such a kind voice? The only time he’d ever done any of that had been when he’d pretended he was the normal, average guy in order to reel her in. Was he drunk, high, _something_? The emotion in his eyes even seemed genuine, like he really cared about her in a personal way instead of the way a man cared about a possession. Was he trying to reel her in again and if so, why? He had to know she wouldn’t forget everything that had happened.

And why was it she still wanted to sink against him and let herself rest in his arms? What the hell was up with that? It was like her body was disconnected from her mind, going gaga at the faint scent of his aftershave. None of that made sense and she hated things not making sense. Jo despised this feeling that things were off somehow and that _she_ was one who didn’t understand the reason for it. 

Dean and Sam kept exchanging a look of concern that for all the world reminded her of the look her parents had exchanged when Jo had told them she was moving out and going to live with Dean. The look had indicated they’d known something she hadn’t. Her folks had known Dean was bad news and she hadn’t listened. She’d been so set on getting out from under their thumb and living her own life that she hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he’d shown them a face she hadn’t yet seen. Maybe they’d really known what was best. If she hadn’t left with Dean that day, maybe none of this would be happening now. Maybe her life would have been very different if she’d listened.

That look…. Strange to see it on Dean and Sam’s faces. As if they, like her parents, knew what was best.

What did Dean and Sam know that she didn’t? The thought bothered her and she was once again hit with a sharp sense that there was something she’d forgotten about her relationship with Dean, something crucial that utterly defined how they were together; that explained that urge to run to him. It was like the name thing, frustratingly there but something she couldn’t access.

Jo rubbed her wrists with a long sigh. Dean had put those handcuffs tight enough that she couldn’t slip free, yet loose enough they hadn’t chafed. Still, with them on too long, she would develop bruises from the press of metal to her skin. Dean should know that and remember how long it had taken those bruises the last time to fade. He did care about putting bruises where anyone would see them. 

They were going to make her go with them, weren’t they? There really wasn’t anything she could do about it right now. The only thing she could do was watch them and look for some weakness she could use to get free. There always was a weakness eventually. She’d found it those times she’d left Dean previously. It’d be harder with two people to watch, however, and she suspected they were going to be watching her in return, scrutinizing everything to make sure she wasn’t thinking of trying to get away. Of course she would be. They’d know that. It was circular really, watching each other and knowing what to expect, yet still hoping it’d be different.

When she could stall no longer, she reached for the doorknob.

Dean was still on the phone when she emerged, pacing her living room. She wondered who he was talking to. He didn’t appear to be very happy with whomever it was, that was for sure.

Sam put the cuffs and gag back on her, his hands gentle as he steered her towards her bedroom. Jo sat on her bed, keeping a wary eye on him. 

He slid the overnight bag towards her and sat as well. “Okay, I’m going to hold up everything I packed so far and if you’re okay with it, nod. If not, shake your head and we’ll exchange it.”

They were behaving like she would be able to come back here later, confusing her even more. They made this seem like an impromptu vacation, a road trip with two old friends. Again, the gag and handcuffs spoiled that image.

Dean came back into view, leaning against the doorframe, icepack back on his face. He stood there silent, watching the process.

She drew out the packing as long as possible, knowing what would happen when they were done. Sam would take the bag and leave her alone with Dean, who’d decide they needed some ‘together time’ before they took her away from her safe life. He’d make her stand, undo the cuffs long enough to have her undress, then cuff her to the headboard and make very sure she understood that she was his. He’d ask her if she’d been with any other men since him and if she answered yes, there’d be hell to pay.

She tasted bile in the back of her throat, thick and sour and licked her lips, barely breathing until that sick taste went away.

All too soon the packing was done, including the toiletries. Sam had found that zippered case in the bathroom and filled it. Maybe it should have reassured her that he took the sample sizes she kept in a basket under the sink, but it didn’t. Sample sizes, in her state of mind, meant she wasn’t going to be alive long.

Jo began to cry, unable to hold back that fresh welling of tears. As she’d predicted, Dean told Sam to take the bag to the car and give them a few minutes. She watched Sam leave with a little knot of dread in her belly. With him there, she’d felt sure Dean wouldn’t do anything, but with him gone…. How soon until Dean became the man she remembered? One minute? Two? She wanted to plead with Sam not to leave, to stay there. “Please don’t do this,” she begged Dean around the gag, trying to prepare herself for the feel of his hands gliding along her skin and his mouth on hers. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Dean sighed, set the icepack down on her dresser, and brought the straight chair from the corner to the bedside. He didn’t touch her, sitting in that chair instead of beside her. Clasping his hands together, he leaned over in a casual pose, forearms on his knees. Jo flinched, but he didn’t lean any closer. He stared at her, gaze searching, as though he was looking for something and couldn’t seem to find it. “I won’t hurt you, Jo. So whatever you’re thinking I’m going to do to you, forget it. Not gonna happen. I never have hurt you, nor will I ever. Some part of you somewhere in there knows that; knows all those things you think happened never did happen. That part trusts me, and Sam too. That part has no hesitation about leaving with us. None at all.” 

She sniffed, sliding away from him. How did he know about that weird gut feeling she was having? How? He couldn’t know about it. It wasn’t possible.

“If we show you we’ve no intention of harming you, will you promise not to yell? You can have that gag off real soon. I’d rather you have the gag off. If you promise to go with us and do this, I’ll take those cuffs off too. Cooperate and this will go smooth for all of us. I don’t like having to keep you under lock and key.”

If they showed they’d no intention of harming her? Didn’t he understand that they’d already _shown_ intent? They were kidnapping her, for God’s sake! Jo stared at him like she thought he was nuts, which she did.

“You can trust me. You can trust Sam. We won’t hit you, rape you, or anything like that. All I want, Jo, is for you to remember who you really are and once you do, you can bust my balls for this if you still want. I promise I’ll lay there on the ground and let you.”

Who she really was? She knew who she was. She was the one who was going to swallow her fears and take him down once and for all. She was the one who was finally going to beat Dean Winchester at his own game.

“You can tear me a new one and high-tail it back here, but until you’re you again, you’re stuck with us and staying right at my side. I can’t let you go. I can’t let this stand. It’s all wrong. Twisted. This life isn’t yours, Jo. Never was. I intend to prove that to you.”

How was he going to do that? 

“We’re going to do a little home tour, hit the highlights and the lows both and then we’ll go to a safe place for awhile. See if it all doesn’t come back to you.” He raised a hand, pointing at the door. “After you.”

Slowly, Jo stood. The choices were clear. She could walk out or be carried out. If she walked, it might begin to lull them, make them careless, and she could make a run for it. Actually doing that scared her. It meant he’d think she was conceding, bending once more to his will.

Jo walked to her front door, waiting there for Dean to open it for her. He turned off the lights, used her keys to lock up, and followed her down the stairs. Aside from when he’d held her a short while earlier, he hadn’t touched her again, another confusing thing. The Dean she remembered had liked to touch her constantly in a display of ownership. An arm around her, hand on her arm, caress to her cheek. He didn’t do that now.

What sort of bizarre game was he playing? She didn’t understand it, or these new rules he was operating under.

Sam slammed the trunk and moved to the back passenger door, opening it. He settled her in, asking if she was comfortable, putting the seatbelt on her, and closing the door. She sniffed and wiped her cheek awkwardly with a shoulder, glancing out of the car at Dean. He still bore that worried expression, talking to Sam in a low voice. She heard a few words, but nothing that gave her any idea what they were discussing.

Dean got in the car, started it, and drove away from her apartment. 

She wasn’t going to be safe until Dean was dead. That was clear. But how to accomplish that goal? He had Sam to get his back and Jo had no weapons. She pondered that, growing sleepy as the adrenaline left her system in a rush of fatigue. She fought it as long as she could, not wanting to be asleep and helpless. Well…more helpless than she already was. Her nights with little restful sleep didn’t help. It grew harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

The rhythm of the tires on the road and the car in motion eased her into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

She went willingly enough out the door, but Dean had seen a flare of calculation in her eyes. This acquiescent attitude was brief and wasn’t going to last long. In fact, he thought it was a good bet that it would last just until she got the gag and cuffs off and had a clear shot away from them. He knew better than to underestimate her.

He turned off the lights in the apartment and locked the door behind him using her keys, then pocketed those keys. He’d slip them into her bag later. Outside, Sam had her bag in the trunk with theirs and was leaning in to fasten the seatbelt around her. That position wasn’t going to be the most comfortable with her arms back behind her. Maybe they could undo the cuffs once they got on the road?

Dean glanced at the houses and buildings around them. It didn’t look like anyone had noticed them. Before Sam could get in the car, he took him aside. “She seem a little too suddenly submissive to you?”

Sam shrugged his brows, his contemplative frown lasting only seconds. “She’s obviously biding her time, trying to figure out how to get away, and maybe hurt one or the both of us in the process.”

“What I thought. Think it’s a sign of former Jo?”

“Honestly? No. I think it’s just her cornered and hunkering down to protect herself on some level, trying to keep some dignity maybe by walking out instead of being carried? Did Cas tell you anything about those memories she thinks are real? Something that might explain some of this?”

He looked around Sam at the car. Jo was watching them with her head cocked, leaning against the door trying to eavesdrop. He nodded. “He did, but I’ll fill you in later. Let’s head out before anyone sees our passenger is wearing a gag.”

They headed west, Dean keeping an eye on Jo in the backseat as he drove. She fought sleep. Her head would dip, then jerk back up, and when it dipped and stayed that way, he slowed, pulled to the side of the road, and stopped. “Drive for awhile, okay?” Getting out, he went around the car, but he didn’t immediately take Sam’s place in the passenger seat. Instead, he opened the back door and looked at Jo’s sleeping form. That half-tilted, slumped posture couldn’t be comfortable. Reaching over the seat, he snagged Sam’s jacket, rolled it up, and leaned over Jo to set it on the seat.

Being careful so as not to wake her, he undid the seat belt and gag. Dean maneuvered her against him, taking the handcuffs off her and bringing her hands around to the front of her body. He chafed a hand along one arm. Her skin was cool, but not cold.

She made a noise in the back of her throat.

Gently, he laid her down on the seat with her head on the jacket and brought her legs up before covering her with his own jacket. Jo snuggled down with a sigh, body going limp once more. He brushed her hair back from her face.

While he’d been trying to project a vibe of confidence about taking her with them, he had to wonder if it was the right thing to do. What if they couldn’t trigger a return of old, real memories? What if the Jo who thought he was a psycho ex-boyfriend was here to stay? What would he… _they_ do then? He didn’t want Jo to stay lost when he’d only just found her.

Dean got in the car beside Sam in the front.

He watched Jo sleep, his body turned in the passenger seat. Hours passed. He wanted to sleep himself, yet had a tiny fear that if he did, he’d wake and discover this was a cruel dream; that Jo was still dead. In a way, he guessed it was like she still was because without her memories, she wasn’t the same person.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice was quiet in the pre-dawn gloom.

“Okay with what? With tying her up or with seeing her broken like this?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Either. Both.”

“How do you think I feel about it? Neither sits right.” Dean shifted in the seat. “Zachariah. Man, there’s a douche bag angel who’d deserved everything he got in the end and then some. I’ve been thinking that he knew just how to get to us. Even now he’s getting to us and he’s been dead for a long time. I’d like to kill him all over again. What if this isn’t reversible, Sam? What if this Jo is all we’ve got left?”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I guess we do what we can and if it doesn’t work…we let her go back to her life.”

“Helluva life it is, too. Pain, pain, and more pain, with a dose of fear thrown in to ooze between all those broken, shattered pieces and glue them into something halfway functioning.” He snorted. “God, she’s _me_.” Dean shook his head. “I don’t want to think about letting her go. Not yet, anyway. It’d suck to lose her again and know that while she’s out there, she’s not _out there_. If she was herself and had been hunting, it’d be one thing, but this? This reeks of wrongness. Cas said that the connection to her memories is shredded.”

“When something is shredded, there’s still threads attaching the pieces. To me, that implies we have a chance at getting her back and eventually in one piece. Shredded pieces can be put back together like a puzzle, taped up and whole again. Maybe with a few quirks from it. I know something about that.” 

They both knew something about being broken and put back together.

Sam’s hands slid along the wheel, changing his grip. “It should be a case of just finding the right key to unlock the memories.”

The words were optimistic, the tone wasn’t. Dean grimaced. “Yeah, that’s gonna be easy.”

“Maybe it will be. Maybe it’ll be as simple as taking her to her dad’s grave or letting her walk through that house.”

He hoped so.

The sky steadily lightened, Dean taking over driving again. “I hate this,” he told Sam in a low voice, taking a long glance in the rearview mirror at Jo. She was still asleep, sprawled on the seat. “I hate tying her up. Feels wrong. Shouldn’t have to do that to her.”

“I know. Especially if she starts remembering Duluth from it. I’d like to not get hit or kicked.”

“You mean like I’ve been?”

“She does seem to have a lot of…anger towards you.”

“You think? I haven’t done squat to cause it ‘cept in her false memories.”

“What did Cas find?”

He explained.

Sam was quiet a long while and when he spoke, it was with an odd authority. “You need to sit and talk to her, get her to talk about her memories and analyze them, look at all the details, even the little ones. Any one of those details could be the one that gets her questioning what’s there in her mind and lets us start putting her back together.” He stretched. “Why would Zachariah shred her memories in the first place? I mean, was he afraid she’d remember on her own if he didn’t and ruin whatever plan he had for her?”

“Sounds like that dick.”

“You think Jo was too stubborn for him?”

Dean glanced at him to find Sam grinning. “Too stubborn for him?”

“Yeah. Come on, Dean, Jo has a stubborn streak a mile wide. You think she gave him hell and he did this to her out of exasperation for her, yet again, breaking through his lies in her head?”

He smiled a little to imagine it. “Damn I hope so. I’d hate to think he zapped her before she had a chance to fight him on it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She dreamed of that honey-haired woman again. In that dream, the woman hugged her, looked her over with a relieved, yet angry stare, and announced she’d never forgive them all. They’d been in this car then, Jo in the back with Sam and Dean with the woman in the front. The trip was tense, the woman remaining angry, Dean speeding and making awkward jokes in an effort to dispel tension, and Jo and Sam quiet. The place changed. She, the woman, and the man in the suit from the diner were at a table. Jo drank a beer while the two did shots.

‘I think I’m starting to feel something,’ he said with an anticipatory, faintly pleased expression.

Jo woke with a gasp. The gag and handcuffs were gone. She was lying down in the backseat, Dean’s jacket over her. She sat up, shoving Dean’s jacket off of her and onto the floor as Dean held a cup over the front seat.

“Here. Coffee. Black and strong. It’s even pretty decent.” He sipped at the cup in his other hand.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Out of all the creepy things he could do, that topped the list.

“Sort of. Do we need to truss you back up?”

She rubbed her wrists. “No. I’ll be good. Where am I going to go? I’ve no money, no i.d.”

His stare indicated he knew very well she was biding her time, looking for a weakness. “Good. Have your coffee. I sent Sam to get some breakfast. Maybe in a couple days we can actually go in to a restaurant -- provided you behave.”

Jo took the cup, opened the top and took a cautious sniff. It smelled like coffee. She took a sip, then another one, tasting a slight sweetness on her tongue. “Is there sugar in this?”

“Two sugars, just how you like it.”

She moved on the seat, careful not to spill the coffee because he’d go ballistic if she spilled on the seats, and settled cattycorner from him. It was easier to see him there and harder for him to reach her unless he lunged. She didn’t recall him ever paying attention to how she liked her coffee. What she _did_ remember was him never giving her coffee how she liked it before. Ever. This was a first.

Jo drank the hot brew and wondered if she’d stepped into the Twilight Zone or something. Dean was hardly behaving like himself. He hadn’t slapped her once for not doing what he wanted her to. Nor had he played any of the emotional games he’d excelled at before. It was confusing and she had to assume this was all just another ploy to get her to think he’d changed.

The coffee was gone by the time Sam got back. He carried three large McDonald’s bags, explaining to her that he hadn’t been sure what she’d want exactly so he’d gotten a few things. She accepted the yogurt fruit parfait and one of the sandwiches, eating slowly while Dean and Sam worked their way through the rest of the food, and wondering why Dean hadn’t told Sam what she’d prefer. He should know. They’d eaten breakfast together many times.

Weird, and the day was only beginning.

She was on her best behavior all morning and into afternoon, coming right out of the rest stop bathrooms, not yelling or screaming. She thought she saw the set of their shoulders relax. A vague plan formed in her mind as Dean actually used the interstates. Usually he avoided them. They’d reached the Illinois, the land of little towns and cornfields, when Jo began to pay close attention to the signs. Portions of Illinois she knew. If she remembered correctly, they should be coming up to a lovely area with plenty of fields.

Jo waited until they’d passed the rest stop and were coming up on an exit with the sign ‘no services’ before putting her plan into action. “I’ve got to pee,” she told them in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dean glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Hold it.”

“I can’t.”

“We just passed a rest stop. I asked if you had to pee. You couldn’t have said something?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t have to go then.”

“Hold it,” he repeated.

Fine.” Jo crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I’ll pee on the seat.”

“You will not.”

“Sure I will.”

“Jo.”

“Stop me.” She shook her head. “Two choices, Dean. Let me out to pee or get a mess on your seat -- which I’m not cleaning up, by the way.”

Dean took the exit and headed down the road a ways, turning onto a side road. “Fine.” He gestured at the passenger side. “There’s a field.”

She studied the area. No one would see her from the interstate if she’d really had to pee. “I’m not peeing in an open field. You are _so_ not seeing my naked ass again.”

“Again? I’ve never _seen_ your naked ass, Jo, though not without trying.”

She snorted. The more annoyed she made them, the more she thought they really wouldn’t look, thus giving her time to run. This Dean seemed to respect privacy more than the one she’d dealt with before. “I want a bush or tree or something.”

“You want to pee, you do it right there.” He pointed a finger this time.

“You’re such a jerk. Just because you’re a guy and have a urinary targeting device, which means you can pee without dropping trou --”

Sam’s sigh was irritated and loud. “We won’t look. Just go…pee, okay?”

“Fine. But if I catch either one of you watching I’ll be seriously ticked.” Jo eased from the car, acting like she had to pee really badly. She made her way into the field and a little beyond where the fencerows should be, turning and backing up, making sure they weren’t looking. With a smirk, she took off running. 

Behind her was the sound of cursing, car doors slamming, and pursuit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several quotes from ‘Born Under A Bad Sign’ S2, in this chapter.

The wheels were turning in Jo’s pretty little head. Dean could practically feel her watchful readiness as the day slid into afternoon and approached evening. He had no doubt that she was going to try something. The only questions were what and when. Her request for a pit-stop was wholly calculated. The timing was too perfect for it to be anything _except_ calculated. Still, what if she really did have to pee?

As soon as she got out of the car and slammed the door, he glanced at Sam. “Ten bucks says she makes a run for it.”

Sam snorted. “I don’t bet on sure things, Dean. Is there any doubt she _won’t_ try running?”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He had to get some sleep tonight and quit staying awake just to make sure this was reality and Jo really was alive, because now he had a headache that wouldn’t quit. No painkiller he’d taken thus far was putting a dent in it and having to run after Jo was going to make it worse. “Rock, paper, scissors to go after her?”

“Don’t bother. I’ll go. I could use the exercise after sitting for hours.”

They got out. Jo was heading across the field towards what looked like a stream. “Damn it, Jo,” he yelled. “Do you have to go right for the water?” Water meant mud which meant mud in the Impala when they all got back to it. He watched Sam start after her, quickly gaining ground, and followed at a slightly slower pace, trying to ignore the increased throbbing in his temples.

Jo had to know this gambit wasn’t going to work. Had to. This run of hers felt to him like a larger plan to make them think she’d gotten the urge to run from them out of her system, while planning to make another run for it later when they’d really put down their guard. Maybe. It was what the old Jo would have done. It seemed to him that there was more of the old Jo lurking in her decisions than there’d been when he’d first seen her in that diner. She was quickly growing bolder, less timid, and he’d found her staring at him the past hours, like she couldn’t quite figure him out.

It was funny in a way, because he thought the old Jo had figured out a lot of him prior to her death. She’d understood things about him other people didn’t -- aside from Sam, of course. She also had understood him in ways Lisa never had -- on hunting, life, Sam. He could see that now, after the passage of time away from both women. It made sense that Jo would understand him, seeing as how she came from a similar background and had had similar goals. She, too, had wanted to help people.

God, he wanted the real her back!

He wanted to glance in the rearview mirror and see sassy, flirtatious Jo looking back at him, not this broken, suspicious Jo. He wanted…a thing he couldn’t let surface enough to put a voice to even to himself, and certainly not with Jo still so far away from him.

He was nearly caught up when Sam made a grab for her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam volunteered to go after Jo for the sole reason that he knew Dean was exhausted. He’d tried to get Dean to rest, yet Dean stubbornly refused, watching Jo. Even telling Dean he should be well-rested to deal with her and that Sam was there to watch her too didn’t help. Dean’s desperation to have the old Jo was back was obvious and he was willing to neglect sleep to get her back.

How Dean thought neglecting his own health was going to help was a thing Sam didn’t quite understand, but he did get the urgency Dean was feeling, like a clock somewhere was ticking and they only had a set amount of time before she’d be lost forever.

He ran fast, catching up, reaching for her. His first grab snagged her shirt, his second one her arm. Sam tugged her back up as she stumbled, managing to keep from tripping himself. One arm went around her back, holding her against him, trying to keep a grip on her while waiting for Dean to join them. Her head tilted back, gaze locking on to his. Her eyes widened. In seconds, her fighting went from annoyed at not getting away to genuine fear and distress.

“Jo, stop,” he told her, reaching for her hands as she beat at his chest. He grasped her wrists, trying to be gentle and keep her contained at the same time. If either of them bruised her up and she regained her memories of who she was, Jo would easily give them hell over it. She wouldn’t mince words in her displeasure about it.

“Let go! Let me go!” She gasped and Jo sagged in his grip, her eyes rolling back until the whites showed. Her body jerked.

“What the hell did you do to her,” Dean demanded with a thunderous glare.

“Not a damn thing,” he protested.

Her eyes rolled back down, gaze focusing. He let her go as she pulled away, stunned to see that sudden burst of knowledge in her eyes spread across her face.

She knew him.

She knew him now and he had a sense that she _really_ recognized him. This wasn’t a vague thought that she knew him somehow, this was full-on recognition. She understood they had a personal connection.

She collided with Dean, sending the both of them to the ground. Still, she didn’t appear to notice Dean had joined them, or notice when he moved to kneel behind her, his hands stroking her arms and voice entreating her to breathe and calm down. When she spoke, her voice was tremulous.

~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn’t going to escape. Not this time. Jo knew it and had known it from even before she’d started running. When they caught her, she’d emphasize that she’d at least had to try and then force herself to pretend she was beaten down, just the way Dean liked her. He’d stop looking at her so closely if he thought she was bending to his will. At least the Dean she’d known would have. Jo wasn’t so certain about this strange man he’d become.

Her legs began to ache, her lungs hurting. Jo slowed, hearing the sounds of Dean and Sam behind her, though she didn’t dare look to see how close they were. It wouldn’t be long now. She was tiring and they had much longer legs than she did. It would be fairly easy for them to catch her.

A hand caught at her shirt, tugging, sending her off-balance, those same hands turning her. It was Sam behind her, Dean nearly to them. Sam’s hands were tight on her body. Jo tried to twist, glancing up. Something in his expression sent a wave of panic and fear through her so sharp that she felt herself begin to lose consciousness. As the darkness grew at the edges of her vision, Jo saw a series of scenes play out in her mind.

_Him. Her._

_Sam in that bar she’d worked at and she trying to close up for the night. Surprise and shock zinging through her at seeing him and a wondering running through her mind of where Dean was, because where one was, there the other was also. You couldn’t have one without the other._

_Her own voice saying, “Well, you're about the last person I'd expect to see.”_

_The conversation and scene playing in fast forward until…._

_Sam holding her wrist as she stood facing him at the bar, the contact creeping her out a little because it didn’t really seem like him. She thought he must be drunk or high maybe. “I could be more to you, Jo.”_

_“Maybe you should leave.”_

_“Okay.” Him tossing her wrist to one side, expression menacing, cold. He started to leave, Jo turning her back to him, relieved that he was leaving. He returned, grabbing her, turning her, Jo fighting him, begging him, ‘no, please’. The terrible thought of rape circling in her mind, then having her head slammed onto the bar._

_Waking to find herself tied to a post, but not in her apartment. In the **bar**. Sam stroking her face with a very large knife. _

_He told her a version of the story of her dad’s death that didn’t make sense he’d know. Sam’s voice mocking and sing-song. “My daddy shot your daddy in the head.” Satisfied. “You’re bait.” Pleading. “Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please.” Incredulous. “What the hell's wrong with you, Dean? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die?”_

_It hadn’t been about rape or even about her at all really. It was about Dean and getting Dean to kill Sam._

_His skin sizzling as Dean splashed liquid on him._

_“That’s holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!”_

_Dean cutting her free._

_“He was possessed?” Her own voice once more. The scene changing, her doctoring Dean’s shoulder. “So, how did you know? That he was possessed?”_

She jerked away from Sam’s suddenly slack grip, falling hard against something that gave with her weight. Jo scrambled back, body pressing to that warm, yielding something. Vaguely, she was aware that it was Dean behind her, his body comforting right then. “Just knew it couldn’t have been him,” she whispered.

_Dean’s voice echoed in her mind, “I’m not getting your blood on my hands.”_

She sat there on the ground, her lower lip trembling, trying to make some sense out of what had gone through her head. It was all truth, a thing that had happened. She knew it, oddly enough. It felt…. It felt like a missing piece of herself had just snapped into place, some of that desperate emptiness that had been inside her for years now eclipsed by something so very vivid. She could almost smell the scents of the barroom, feel the ache on her forehead…. Hear Dean’s voice. It was all more real to her than the memories she had of her parents and of that life with Dean.

The facts of that story that he’d told her didn’t add up. Her dad hadn’t died that way. He hadn’t gone out hunting with anyone. But if the part about Sam was true and she knew it was….

Sam remained where he was, not moving towards her.

“Who are you, Sam? How do I know you? I thought it was Dean in Duluth, but it wasn’t, was it? It was you. You were the one…. My head on the bar, tying me up. Why did I….” She frowned, not verbalizing the rest of that thought. Why had she thought Dean had done that and why did she know that she and Sam still weren’t enemies despite that? He’d done those things, but she didn’t blame him for it.

Possessed, her mind whispered back to her, as though it made perfect sense. He’d been possessed and that wasn’t his fault. The demon was directing his body then.

Jo swallowed hard. Demons? Right.

But the evidence was there in her mind. Demons exist. He’d been possessed by one and that was why she didn’t blame him. Demons lied, yet they’d tell truth if it would mess with a person. Jo knew all of that.

I’m losing my mind, she thought.

“I’m Dean’s brother, Jo.” He crouched down so she wasn’t craning her neck to look up at him.

She shook her head. “Dean doesn’t have a brother.” Her words rang false to her own ears, feeling wrong coming from her lips. Her mind told her Dean was an only child, like Jo herself, that this was a con they were pulling, but that pesky gut feeling reared up, joining in with the memory she knew was true. Dean did have a brother and that brother was Sam.

Jo had the urge to giggle hysterically and looked around the field, half expecting to see the White Rabbit.

“He does. Me.” He gestured at himself. “Sam Winchester.”

“Duluth --”

“Was out of my control. I did call you later and apologize. Managed to get that message to you before you changed numbers again. We did head back there, Jo, but by then you were long gone.”

She leaned back a little, then sat up very straight, realizing she was not only against Dean, but that he was embracing her and that contact wasn’t giving her the heebie-jeebies like it should. Wrenching away, she moved to where she could see both of them. She licked her lips. “I had to try running,” she blurted out, but the words hardly had the desperation she’d initially wanted to put to them. They were merely words, flat, like a line given by a bad actor. “I had to.”

Her attention strayed to Dean. He stared right back. Watchful. Waiting. Continuing to look for something in her that he as yet hadn’t seen. Mixed with all of that was disappointment and Jo felt an oddly sympathetic burst of disappointment in return. She frowned, more confused than ever by what had just happened.

She’d patched him up that night Sam had been possessed and she’d done it like she’d known what she was doing.

Repressed, Jo decided. She’d simply repressed the memory because who in their right mind would have believed her that demons were real? It didn’t explain completely forgetting Sam, however, but she was willing to lump it all together. She’d repressed the memory and Sam as well because of it.

“Course you did.” Sam stood back up. “We never expected otherwise.”

Dean got up and held out a hand to help her up. Once, he would have hauled her to her feet with an unceremonious tug. Jo shook her head and got up without assistance from either of them. He shrugged. “You okay, Jo?”

“I guess.” If being okay meant she’d had a weird seizure thing that made a repressed memory show up, then yes, she was okay.

“You done running,” Sam asked, hands in his jacket pockets.

With a glance at Dean, then back to Sam, Jo nodded. “Yes.”

The ‘for now’ was unspoken and all three of them knew it. Dean and Sam’s gazes reflected that speculation. She’d have to be careful when choosing the next time to run because they were going to be looking for it.

“Then we should get back on the road for a couple hours before stopping for the night.”

The walk back to the car was slow, Jo between Dean and Sam, with Sam in the lead. They didn’t rush her, letting her determine the pace. She began to limp a little, her left ankle tender. It wouldn’t surprise her if she’d bruised it in her sprint across the uneven ground. She’d have to be more careful next time. It wasn’t only that ache she noticed now either. With each step, she felt a low, dull pain began to pulse in her temples. Tension headache, Jo thought. Great. She rubbed her fingers at her temples and forehead.

Dean opened the trunk, then her bag. Right on top was a stack of her pretty lacy panties that Sam had packed for her. He hesitated, then moved them aside and reached lower in the bag. “Any preference of shirt? That one’s got mud on the back.” Pulling one out, he held one up. “How about this one?”

Slowly, Jo took it, not really caring what she put on. “It’s fine.”

They turned their backs to her, shielding her from view, the raised trunk lid also a shield. She could hear traffic whooshing by on the interstate. Jo took off her white work shirt, replacing it with a form-fitting purple Henley. She cleared her throat. “Done.”

The shirt went in the laundry bag. “Need anything else?”

She crossed her arms. “No. I’m not changing jeans out in the open.” There didn’t appear to be much mud on them anyway. Dean, she saw, had gotten far muddier than she had. “Like I said: you’re not seeing my ass, naked or even nearly so.”

He took a rag from the trunk and wiped at the muddy spots on his jeans, making more of a mess than anything. Dean abandoned the effort and closed both her bag and the trunk. “Then let’s make like a baby and head out.”

In minutes, they were back on the road and it wasn’t long before Dean was looking at her in the rearview mirror enough that she knew questions were coming.

“So Jo….”

She stared at the back of his head. “What, Dean?”

“Tell me about your folks.”

Did he have amnesia maybe? Could that explain some of his behavior? “You know about them already. You met them, remember? Met them, hated them.”

Sam turned in the seat, looking at her. “Well then, tell _me_.”

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “Fine. Mary and Robert Dunn.”

“Not Ellen and Bill?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Who? No. Mary and Robert. They didn’t like Dean and cut me off when I moved out. No big loss there, they weren’t exactly exemplary parents.”

“You didn’t love them?”

“Sure I did.” She didn’t elaborate on the relationship she’d had with them. Why should she? Dean already knew all of it anyway.

“Mary and Robert, huh?” Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel exchanged another long, weighted glance with Sam. Jo was getting tired of seeing those. “Bobby for short?”

“So you do remember.”

Sam cleared his throat. “What happened to them? Where are they now?”

Jo raised her chin a notch. “They’re dead. Car accident. Brakes failed on their new car. I never thought it was an accident, though.”

“Yeah? Why?”

She transferred her stare back to Dean’s head. “Because Dean smiled when the police told me the news. It was a very…satisfied smile.”

“You think I’d do that,” Dean asked in a hoarse tone. “That I’d mess with someone’s brakes?”

“Smile and know-how, Dean.” Jo quirked a brow at him in the mirror. “You tell me.”

He looked troubled by that, the conversation effectively terminated.

Jo’s head kept telling her that Sam and Dean were bad news and not to be trusted, that she should do everything to get away quickly. Her gut, however, continued to tell a different story. It told her that she could trust them implicitly and that they really were trying to save her somehow.

She had no doubt that they _were_ dangerous. Sam and Dean Winchester (she’d accepted that they were brothers and that she’d suppressed that fact) were very dangerous men. But aside from her initial reaction and her mind’s constant screaming on it, she didn’t think they were going to hurt her. They’d both had ample opportunity now to hurt her any way they wished. Even after her run, they hadn’t hurt her. Dean continued to surprise her by not doing what she thought he would. In fact, Jo thought she was probably safer with them than back in her apartment.

“Where are we going,” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

“South Dakota,” Sam answered. “Maybe.”

“Taking the scenic route to Sioux Falls, aren’t we? We should be further north for a straight shot there. This road’s too far south. Where are we really going?”

Dean slammed on the brakes, the car fishtailing as they screeched to a stop. “Why would you even think we’re going to Sioux Falls? Why there? There’s a whole state of towns and you pick that one?”

He and Sam both turned to look over the seat at her, their eyes wide.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You must have said it.”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “we didn’t. We haven’t said where we’re going at all.”

Dean looked at him. “You think she’s remembering?”

“Could be. I’ve noticed some things aside from what happened in the field that might indicate that.”

“Okay.” She shifted on the seat a little. “You two do know I can hear you, right?”

Sam shifted position. “We could be heading for Nebraska.”

She felt restless right then, itching to throw open the door and run again. “What’s there?” The combined weight of their expectant stares was uncomfortable and she crossed her arms over her breasts. “What? Like I should know?”

“You know,” Dean told her. “You just don’t… _know_ yet.”

“Oh, that makes perfect sense,” she mumbled.

Dean turned first, setting the car back into motion. Sam, however, continued to watch her.

“Take a picture already,” she snapped.

He looked away and Jo turned her attention to the scenery. She knew she was right. If they were going to South Dakota, they weren’t going right there. They were making a stop elsewhere first. But where? And why did she, like they, suspect that she should know the answer to that?


	5. Chapter 5

They slept in the car that night, an awkward arrangement that left Dean in a surly mood. It was awkward when it was only him and Sam, but to add another person? He hadn’t slept well, waking up frequently to check and make sure Jo was still there. She slept soundly, a thing he was faintly jealous about. How could she sleep in the state she was in? And how could she look so good doing it? Even tired there was something appealing about her.

Sam was awake every time he woke. He still didn’t sleep a lot, but at least he _was_ sleeping now. It wasn’t quite as creepy to know he did sleep, even if it was only an annoyingly short number of hours that he needed. Dean himself seemed to need more and more sleep these days. Bobby told him it was an age thing and to enjoy it now because it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was going to get. Always cheerful, that Bobby. And Dean did remember how it had felt to be old. Occasionally he had nightmares about it though he’d never admit it out loud.

Dean sipped at a cup of coffee, pondering what Jo had told them. If she thought Bobby was her dad and was dead, she was in for the shock of her life when they finally reached Sioux Falls. Maybe that shock would be what it took to break down that wall between her real memories and the false ones. There had to be something somewhere that’d do the trick. He and Sam simply needed to find whatever it was and hopefully it’d be soon. He found he was longing for a moment between himself and Jo like the one he’d seen in that field between Jo and Sam. The recognition. The blockage tumbling down. He wanted that so bad he could almost taste it in the back of his mouth. Dean wanted a reunion with her that by definition would be far more than any prior reunion.

He let his attention slide slowly across the landscape to the picnic table. They’d had fast food again despite Jo’s protests. Truth be told, he was tired of it himself. Maybe tomorrow they could chance a restaurant. 

Jo and Sam were at the table, breakfast spread out before them. If Sam’s expressions were any indication, he wanted Dean to join them, but Dean didn’t feel like it. Nor did he feel like participating in whatever conversation they were having right now. What he felt like doing was standing back and observing Jo from a far. He wanted to pick through the things he was seeing and compare them to what he remembered of her. Some of the old Jo was beginning to really shine through, which was encouraging to an extent. It wasn’t enough. He was impatient for more. He wanted the full fire in her eyes, the snark in her voice, and the attitude she could give at the drop of a hat. Not only that, he wanted the more mature Jo he’d known briefly, the one who’d turned him down at Bobby’s fridge in a way that hadn’t hurt or stung, who’d said plain that she was dying and made them face it.

Those things were all a part of her, still there inside, ready to burst free.

Sam got up and came over to him. “What are you doing? Get over there and talk to her. Draw her out, Dean. Make her really have to think about those memories she thinks are real.”

“Looked like you were doing fine with her.”

“But I’m not the one who….” With a sad shake of his head, Sam gestured at her. “Go. Converse.”

Dean scowled at him. “I’m in no mood --”

Sam held up one finger, pointing it at him. “Don’t make me make you.”

With a roll of his eyes, he walked to the table and sat across from Jo. Sam remained by the Impala, hands in his pockets, head tilted back, face turned up to the sun. Dean set his cup down. “Enjoy your breakfast?”

Jo grimaced down at her half-eaten sandwich. “Not really. I’d prefer something with a little more nutrition to it, like a nice sit-down at a restaurant.”

“Maybe later.” 

She slid the wrapper and sandwich aside and crossed her arms on the tabletop, her gaze guarded and wary when she looked at him. “You need to let me go, Dean. I won’t press charges. I promise. I never have before, have I? All those times --”

“All those times? What times would those be?”

“Philadelphia for one. You locked me in a mausoleum for hours.”

“ _I_ did? A mausoleum? You’re so far from right on that….”

“My point is that I could have pressed charges and I didn’t. I didn’t report it. I didn’t think to report it. Even when you cut me in Carthage, I just….” He saw her hands move, going to her side, a flicker of confusion and what looked like a spasm of pain on her face. “I never told anyone.” Her attention lowered to the tabletop. “You could let me go. Right here. You and Sam get in the car, drive off, and I’ll--”

“You’ll what? Hitch all the way back to Rhode Island? Get raped and murdered by some psycho? No, Jo, I can’t let you go. You’re staying right here with me until you’re back to being the Jo I remember.”

“I’m not that naïve girl anymore,” she protested.

“You damn well got that right, but it’s the woman I want back, not the girl.” He took a long drink of his coffee. “I’ll make a deal with you. You tell me all about what you remember of us and I’ll do the same.”

She snorted. “Like you don’t know our history.”

“More like you don’t remember it.” He watched her think about it, eyes narrowed, and finally consent with a slow nod. This ought to be informative.

~~~~~~~~~~

They’d pulled off the interstate and found a park to eat breakfast at. It didn’t appear to be a popular place. Their car was the only one parked in the small lot. 

Jo hated living on fast food. Granted it had only been a couple days, but she still thought she could actually feel her arteries clogging with that crap. Her mom had always insisted they eat decent meals and Jo supposed that had rubbed off on her after all the time they‘d spent together…. 

Where had that thought come from? Mary Dunn had never insisted on proper meals. It had been all she could do to heat up frozen pizza at night when she’d gotten home from work. Her mother had been beaten down by life long before she’d given birth to Jo.

She gave her head a tiny shake and unwrapped the breakfast sandwich Dean had set in front of her before he’d retreated back to the Impala. Jo picked at her breakfast, half listening to Sam talk about some situation he and Dean had gone through where their memories had been altered. He told the story well, she simply wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him. Demons were one thing. Angels actually altering peoples minds was another. Was he going to talk about space aliens next? It wasn’t that she doubted angels existed, but that they’d had personal contact with Sam and Dean.

Sam and Dean. Really? Why would angels bother with them?

“We both thought we were different people, not even related. I kept having these weird dreams, you see, and it turned out they were actually my memories trying to break free.”

The bite she’d just taken was like ashes in her mouth and she choked it down. “Weird dreams?” She took a sip of coffee and swallowed. “Like how weird?”

“Weird. I was battling supernatural creatures…and winning.”

Similar to her dreams and she’d never had one like that before the man in the suit that had shown up at the diner. “Did you know everyone in your dreams?”

“Not at first, no. Why? Are you having strange dreams, Jo?” He leaned over the table a little, peering at her closely with that same searching gaze Dean had. “You are, aren’t you? How detailed are they? I bet they’re more detailed than your dreams usually are.”

She ignored the questions and speculation. He was right though. The dreams were detailed, colorful.

“You’re a hunter like me, like Dean. It’s what you are in reality. That demon you remembered? One of the things we hunt and there’s a big world of creatures out there. You’re not a waitress, Jo. That’s not your life’s work. You’re much more than that and always have been. You’re a hunter with a capital ‘H’ and you got to be a damn good one by the end.”

“The end?” He’d said those two words with a tone of finality. “The end of what?”

He ignored her question like she’d ignored his. “If you’re having dreams like that, it’s got to be them trying to push through and override what Zachariah did to you. You’ve had a strong will since we’ve known you.”

“Who’s Zachariah?”

“The angel. The same one who changed our memories and did a whole bunch of other douche-y things. He was pretty big on doing those things one, because he could, and two, to get us to say yes to what he wanted. He pulled every nasty trick he could think of, so him doing this to you doesn’t really surprise me. It shouldn’t surprise Dean either.”

So now the angel that had messed with them had messed with her. Right. “Sure. Okay.” He said it all with complete seriousness, too. “Do you hear voices, Sam? Do you talk to them and they talk back? Because what you’re saying sounds more than a little cuckoo. Angels running around --”

His expression shifted to good natured exasperation. “Your dreams are your reality,” he insisted.

“My dreams are dreams, Sam. That’s all.”

He glanced away, over to where Dean was standing behind her. She knew Dean was there, staring at her. He’d been doing that since they’d stopped to eat. Jo wondered what he was thinking as he leaned against the Impala. 

Sam left and a minute later, it was Dean joining her, trying to chat her up.

She made the mistake of mentioning Carthage, but instead of remembering him hurting her, she had another flash of confusing images, thankfully not as forceful as what she’d had in the field. This flash was quick, another piece of truth.

__

Pain in her side, blood everywhere, and the horrible feeling of her strength draining away. Dean carrying her, upset. Hellhounds barking.

Hellhounds? Jo touched her side, pushing on in their conversation and deciding to accept his deal. It might be interesting to see how he viewed their relationship. Enlightening even. Maybe she’d begin to get a handle on him, because she was still floundering, uncertain how to behave around him. All of the usual things didn’t make him blow-up and smack her around like before. “Ask me what you want.”

“If we’ve got such a past together, tell me about our first kiss.” He drained his coffee cup.

She studied the scenery behind him, letting the memory of that kiss wash over her. The warm, tender press of his lips to hers, an almost bittersweet caress that had hinted of so many emotions on his behalf. Regret had tinged the kiss, yet beneath it had been an understanding between them that there could have been more. 

More? Yes, more. If they’d had time, there could have been so much more between them.

Jo licked her lips. It was what he and Sam would call a true memory, one that was a piece of her and she just _knew_ it. “I was upset and…it happened.”

“Why were you upset?”

“I don’t remember now.” She couldn’t recall the reason, yet remembered that whatever it had been had devastated her. When he’d kissed her, she’d been feeling as though her entire world was ending. Jo felt a resultant sadness from that true memory slide through her in a rush, tears prickling her eyes.

“Where were we?”

“I don’t remember.” She blinked the tears away.

“Come on, Jo. This is stuff women remember.” Dean gestured with his cup.

“Okay, why don’t _you_ tell me where we were and why I was upset?”

“Not yet. How about our first time together? You know. Our first time? Knocking boots? What did it take for me to get in your pants?” He paused, then added with raised brows, “Some pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV?”

She glared at him, vaguely remembering having said those words in the past. “No. Dean, geez. As if I had no self-respect or something to hop in the sack with a guy I’d just met.”

“You do remember, don’t you? Or at least one time? I’m not exactly a celibate kind of guy, so tell me, Jo, when _did_ we hop in the sack, because I’ve gotta say, it’s not something I remember.”

“Dick,” she snapped, feeling heat rise on her cheeks. Honestly, she didn’t have a specific memory that she could say with absolute certainty was of him. The images were vague. The man could be anyone.

“You don’t remember, do you? That’s because it never happened and no amount of Zachariah putting that kind of image in your head rings true to you. We do have a history, Jo. It’s just not the one you’ve been led to believe. When I _did_ make a pass at you, you turned me down flat -- and you were right to do that.”

Now _he_ was talking about Zachariah, the memory changing angel. Had he and Sam worked this out ahead of time? The only other option, that they were telling the truth, made her stomach clench. Jo didn’t think she could face that option. It was too…too…crazy. It made her head hurt. Literally so. Seriously considering any of what they said or trying to reconcile her ‘true’ memories with her life memories made her temples throb. “Why don’t you enlighten me as to how you see us?”

“Friends. Colleagues. I never hurt you. Got angry, but never hurt you.”

“Specifics?”

“No, not yet.”

He kept saying that. “Why not now?”

“Because when you remember, I want you to know for sure it’s your memories.”

“You’re welching on a deal?”

“I told you what I remember of us, Jo. We were friends and we were colleagues, but never more than that.” He sounded sad by that and she saw a glimmer of deep regret in his eyes before he looked away.

Once more, her emotions mirrored his, a pang of sadness and regret welling inside her. Why? Where did it come from?

“This is taking too long. Let’s get back on the road. I’d like to make the state line by lunch.”

They were closing in fast on wherever it was he and Sam were taking her. With each mile closer, Jo felt her discomfort, along with her headache, getting worse. She didn’t want to go any further in that direction, an irrational thing she couldn’t figure out. She had to escape them and soon, before she ceased to be able to think straight from the pain in her head.

~~~~~~~~~~

His mood far better than it had been, Castiel eluded a couple of Raphael’s patrols and snuck in to human heaven, following that small trace of Ellen Harvelle. There wasn’t much to follow, merely a hint of her presence, which he might not have even noticed if he hadn’t once paid close attention to her.

She’d tried to befriend him, teach him a few human things, like how long it took to get drunk. Ellen, unlike Dean and Sam, had seemed to immediately grasp the scope of all he’d done for them. She’d shown him a quiet sort of respect even while trying to get him drunk. Her attempts at friendship had been more of an attempt to give him knowledge he might need in the future than Dean’s lessons in humanity.

It boiled down to respect really.

Ellen had respected him and Castiel, in turn, had retained a respect for her, especially after that decision she’d made to stay with Jo in the end. A noble act. He’d studied her, seen who she was beneath it all because she’d invited him to. Ellen had told him it was okay to try to understand her because if he fell fully, he’d need to have an idea of how to relate to a woman.

Sometimes, he wondered how far she would have taken that tutelage if she hadn’t died.

Sometimes, he thought he would have let her take it however far she’d wanted and in whatever direction. Her leading him by the hand into a full human existence could have been…enjoyable -- on some level.

It was only right that he look for her when he did have some time. He wasn’t resentful of doing that, not really. It was only that he felt like he already had so many things he was trying to do that he couldn’t do the job he’d like. He wanted to focus on it completely and stay at it until she was found, yet he couldn’t. He could only spend a moment here and there at tracking.

Castiel followed that trail until he hit a dead-end and stood there, pondering what action he should take next. Perhaps he should take a long look at Raphael’s general, the one who’d initially led him to Jo: Uzziel.

~~~~~~~~~~

They hadn’t returned to the interstate, moving on to state highways, a meandering route that felt in her mind to be more direct than the one they’d been on. Both of them drove these roads like they were very familiar with them, not consulting a map. Jo rubbed her fingers across her forehead. She had to slow down their progress, if only to get some relief from her headache, but how to do that?

“I need a shower,” Jo announced, giving her shirt an exaggerated sniff. She liked to shower daily, so this not showering thing was nasty, in her opinion. “Rest stop baths don’t count. I feel gross.”

“We’ll get a room tonight.” Dean stretched in the passenger seat, yawning wide.

“One room?”

“Yeah.”

She gawked at Dean. Did he realize what that would look like? “And have people think I’m some slut getting it on with two guys? No.”

“It look like you’ve got a choice?”

“It’s unreasonable to ask me to share a room with you two. I need privacy.”

“You’ve been sharing a car.”

“That’s different. I’m not getting undressed and showering in the car.”

“You got money to pay for one?”

“No.”

“Then forget it.”

“Jerk.”

He turned to stare at her over the seat back. “What part of keeping an eye on you aren’t you understanding? One room. Two rooms means we,” he gestured between him and Sam, “can’t watch you.”

“Pervert,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“Not like I’m planning on watching you shower and change, Jo.”

“Not like you’d admit it, is it, Dean? Peeper.”

A snort of laughter left Sam and when Dean shot him an irritated glare, he half-heartedly pretended to have a coughing fit.

“I don’t want to wait until tonight. Don’t you two feel nasty right now? Wouldn’t a shower be pretty sweet?”

Sam turned his head for a few seconds. “She has a point, Dean. We do all need to shower sometime soon.”

“Tonight. We’ll get a room tonight and shower then. It’s only,” he shot a glance at his watch, “like seven hours away.”

It turned out that Sam was on her side of the whole shower matter. He didn’t bother arguing with Dean either, he simply pulled over when he found a place that looked cheap, overriding Dean’s protestations that they had to make the state line, announcing that it’d still be there after they all showered and changed clothes. The motel he’d chosen was, to put it in a complimentary way, so skeevy a strung out junkie would hesitate staying there for ten minutes to get a fix.

Jo stood just inside the door to their room, her lip curling. “You are so not serious, Sam.”

He set her bag and his down on one bed. “What do you mean?”

She took a cautious step onto the carpet. “This place obviously rents by the hour.”

“Considering we only need it for a couple hours, what’s the problem?”

Dean closed the door and turned the lock. “You wanted a shower, princess.” He pointed at the bathroom. “There’s the shower.”

“My shoes are sticking to the carpet and I’m pretty sure I just saw a family of roaches scurry for cover.”

“Keep the lights on and they’ll leave you alone.”

She stepped to the bathroom and peered inside, the window catching her eye. There was an actual window. Most of these places didn’t have windows in the bathroom, let alone one big enough to crawl out of, but this one did. Okay, it was a little high on the wall and she was going to have to balance precariously on the toilet tank and sink to get up to it…. It was doable however.

Quickly covering her delight at the window, she opened her bag, drew out a few things and said, “I’m first,” before going in and slamming the door. Jo locked the door, turned the shower on, and began her climb. The window didn’t screech when she opened it. In fact, it looked to her like she wasn’t the first person to go out it. It took a feat of acrobatics to get turned onto her stomach so she could lower herself rather than jumping face first.

Slowly, Jo eased out.

Hands caught her hips, helping her down to the ground. Jo whirled, smacking at those hands. “Get off me! Peeping Tom!”

Dean was there in front of her, his hands remaining on her hips, fingers squeezing gently “You’re still very much dressed, Jo. In fact, you look like you’re planning on going somewhere.” Amusement was etched on his features. 

Placing her hands on his chest, she shoved him. To her great disgust, she didn’t manage to budge him an inch.

“You think you’re the first person to ever think about crawling out the bathroom window to escape? I even did it myself awhile back.”

Jo gave him her best haughty expression. “I was testing you.”

“I see. You want a boost back up or would you rather walk all the way around the building?”

“I’ll walk.”

“It was a nice try, though I was expecting a bit more creativity from you.”

Jo stalked back into the room and bathroom, showering and changing clothes, her mind awhirl with ideas.

He wanted creativity? She’d give him creativity.


	6. Chapter 6

The past was the past, wasn’t it? It couldn’t be changed?

Jo thought about how the past _could_ be changed, given what Sam and Dean had been telling her. 

She remembered her life. A childhood with parents too worried about getting by from day to day than with the child that had been unplanned. Being an outcast at school from the first day she’d attended, a feeling and reality that had lasted even up into her college years. A string of loser boyfriends that ended with Dean, who’d seemed unlike the others at first. He’d flattered her, told her she was beautiful, talented, smart, and all of those other things girls longed to hear from boys. He’d charmed her, but he hadn’t charmed her parents. They’d railed at her that she was being stupid to leave with him and she’d done it anyway. She _had_ loved her parents, in a way. They’d given her life after all.

But what if Sam and Dean were right? What if her dreams were real and all of what she thought she remembered was false, implanted memories by an angel who’d had some unknown ulterior motive by doing that? It scared her that they might be right about that. To somehow acquire the attention of a being that could do that to her because he wanted to? Frightening. Where was her will in all of that? Where was her own hand in the course of her life? How was it right that an angel could do that at his own whim? Angels were supposed to be righteous warriors of God. How did that fit in all of it? Or did it? 

She wondered who the people were she’d seen in those dreams. The man with the mullet. The honey haired woman. The various other people present. The hugs Jo dreamed of receiving from that woman were almost…maternal. If only they were true…. It would be nice to have such warm memories of a mother.

Undoing her seatbelt, she laid down on the seat, curling up. The magazines Dean had bought for her at the last gas station slid onto the floor and she stared at the cover of one without really seeing it.

There wasn’t any way Jo could reconcile the ‘true’ memories with her real ones. It simply wasn’t possible. Duluth made no sense in context of her memories, so therefore, logically, it must be out of context, which meant those dreams _were_ the context, since it seemed to fit with them. The whole fighting monsters thing and the demon in Duluth just went together. That led her into circles of thought that wouldn’t quit. Her dreams were reality, her reality a forced fantasy, and she’d somehow garnered the attention of an angel who’d thought nothing of turning her life upside down for his own ends. 

The logic led to them being right. The sensation of pieces of herself locking together and slowly becoming whole led her to them being right. If Duluth was true, then the rest of it must be as well.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Dean here and now wasn’t the Dean in her memories. It was painfully obvious the more time she was with him and Sam. He wouldn’t hurt her, had no intention of hurting her, and seemed offended that she’d think he’d hurt her somehow on purpose. He was worried about her, an air of desperation hanging about him. In her memories, he was hardly the man before her now. In her mind, he was painted as the blackest of hearts, using her, claiming to own her.

If she’d had her gun on her in the diner the other day, she would have shot him without hesitation and stood gloating over his dead body. It wouldn’t have mattered that he wasn’t actually the man she’d thought he was. At that point, she would have been enacting justice for all she’d thought he’d done to her, killing an innocent man.

Now? She simply wanted away so that maybe her head would quit hurting and she would no longer feel as though spiders were skittering across her skin. She was antsy, restless.

The Impala slowed and she raised up. They were stopping at a rest stop. So soon, she thought, then remembered Dean downing cup after cup of coffee earlier because he hadn’t slept well and needed it to keep awake. He’d been overdosing on coffee all day. Jo perused the area. It was a standard rest stop. Picnic area, parking lot, building. She opened the door and got out, stretching, noting the cars already there pulling out. A little girl with blond pigtails in the back of one car waved at her. Jo waved back.

Sam crossed his arms on the top of the open door. “Last stop for awhile. Might want to take care of business while we’re here.”

She nodded. Now appeared as good a time as any to enact her next plan. There wasn’t anyone here, but if she waited it could be much longer before she’d have a chance. To the right of the building, she noticed a path leading into a wooded area. Good enough. She needed to distract them and had the perfect idea.

Jo followed Dean into the building, Sam right behind her, and glanced at the vending machines. “Would you get me a coffee? And a snack? Something chocolate.”

Dean peered at the machines. “Doesn’t more liquid defeat the purpose of a pee break?” The wondering didn’t stop him from getting coffee, however.

“Out with the old, in with the new,” Sam replied in a questioning tone.

Jo rolled her eyes and went into the bathroom. She waited about a minute, pasted on her best mortified expression and went out to the vending machines, sidling up to Dean. “I need clean clothes and a couple bucks.”

“What? Why?” He set his cup down and snapped a lid on it.

She glanced around them, keeping her voice hushed as though afraid someone would come in and overhear her. “Girl stuff.”

They both stared at her, puzzled. Sam even did that quizzical head tilt dogs did.

She raised her brows. “Mother Nature?”

They glanced around the building as though looking for a person. 

She blinked. Geez, guys could be dumb sometimes. Jo hadn’t expected it to take them more than a second to catch on. She raised her voice. “I got my period, okay? It’s really gross to have blood all over, so I need clean clothes and a couple bucks to plug up so I don’t bleed all over your precious seats!” Crossing her arms, Jo directed a pointed stare at the Impala outside. “Is that clear enough? You want to follow me in the toilet and take a gander yourselves or just trust me on this and get me some damn clean clothes, a couple bucks, some coffee, and a snack that’s preferably chocolate?”

The emotions that crossed their faces would have been fascinating to study at another time. Surprise, discomfort, and disgust -- probably that she was mentioning it rather loudly. It was Sam who actually opened his wallet. “Get her clothes, Dean. I’ll get the coffee and chocolate.” His attention raised to her a brief second before dipping back to his wallet. “Lots of chocolate.”

Jo held out a hand. “Money please. Tampons cost.”

He forked over a few singles while Dean stood there with a weird expression on his face, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. One brow twitched a fraction.

She turned another pointed stare to the car. “Bleeding here, Dean. Not comfortable. Clothes please.”

“Right. Clothes. You mean….” 

“Jeans. Underwear.”

“Underwear. Yeah. Okay.” He nodded, took a deep breath, and left the building.

As soon as Sam’s back was turned, Jo slipped quietly out the back door of the building and took off down that path she’d noticed. It had to lead somewhere, right?

Unfortunately, that somewhere wasn’t anywhere that would aid her in escape. A low moan left her, building until it because a full blown word. “Crapsticks!” Jo stomped one foot in frustration. She would have to run right to the nearest fence that had a locked door and didn’t have any obliging handholds to use to climb it.

Expletives fell from her lips in a rush, Jo kicking the fence as her frustrations welled up and overflowed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean turned from the trunk, holding a fresh pair of jeans for Jo with one of those lacy pairs of panties folded inside them. Touching her underwear, which had rested very intimately against her at one time or another, was doing things to him that hadn’t happened in awhile. He closed the trunk and went back into the building in time to see Sam coming from the women’s rest room.

“Wrong door there, Sammy -- unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”

“She’s gone, Dean! I turned my back for two seconds --”

He sighed, her ploy now blindingly obvious. Well, he _had_ told her to be creative. “Do you feel a ton of sucker stupid right now or is it just me?”

“I’m feeling it.”

“Damn it,” he said, shoving the clothes at Sam. “I’m blaming this on a lack of good sleep.”

He left the building, seeing a quick glimpse of blue retreating to the right. Here’s hoping it’s her, he thought and ran in that direction.

He was rewarded moments later by her very vocal, frustrated cursing, rounding the bend in the path to see her kicking the large wooden fence with one foot. The gate on the fence had a nice, big, shiny padlock and the entire area was one way out: the way he’d come from. Dean slowed to a walk, his lips twitching.

Jo whirled, gave it a last backward kick and started towards him. “Not a word, Dean. Not a single word.”

“Why didn’t you say you wanted some exercise?”

She growled at him.

“So, am I to take this to mean that you’re not really ragging at present?”

She marched past him, hands clenched into fists, her low mutters angry. She appeared to be lamenting fate, who she was assuming hated her at present, her curses rather creative. A couple of them even made him a mite uncomfortable.

“You can still have the coffee and chocolate if you want. My treat,” he called after her, earning an emphatic ‘screw you’ gesture with both hands.

Halfway down the path, they met Sam coming from the other direction. He was still carrying the clothes Dean had gotten from the trunk. “There you are.”

Jo snatched the clothes out of his hands, brushed past him, and continued walking. Upon reaching the building, she skirted it, went to the Impala and got inside, slamming the door. After a minute, she opened the door and yelled, “Well, get the lead out you two! Let’s go if we’re going!”

“What happened,” Sam asked.

“Destiny hates her, fate’s a bitch, and you don’t _want_ to know what she thinks luck can go do to himself.”

“Okay. Roadhouse site first? Or grave or house?”

“Let’s head to the Roadhouse first and good God, I’m hoping seeing that site does the trick because this is getting old fast. Chasing after her….” While it was getting old to run after her, he didn’t mind because if he got the old Jo back, all of it would pay off. He’d have her back. _They’d_ have her back.

“You think she’d get tired of bolting, too. Maybe want to know why her dreams seem more real than her memories.”

“Wait…she’s having dreams?” He stopped Sam with one hand on his arm. “You mean like you did when Zach did the mind scramble on us?”

“Yeah. Just like, I think. She didn’t confirm it or anything, but she didn’t deny it, either. Had that look on her face, like I’d scored a direct hit.” He shrugged.

“So between Duluth and that,” Dean gestured in the air, “that means something’s happening in her head. _Something_ is connecting and this is working.”

“It’d be my guess.”

“Good, good. That’s…damn that’s good news.”

“We’re not in the clear yet, though,” Sam reminded him. “It’s still just pieces. Who knows how long it’ll take for her to get her memories back fragment by fragment? A few days, a few months. How do we know it won’t take years even?”

He didn’t want to contemplate this taking years. In his opinion, the sooner the better. “Cheery thought, Sam.”

“Trying to be realistic about our timeline. You got a plan yet if she doesn’t snap back together soon?”

“It’s only been a couple days. Ask me again in a couple weeks.” 

Jo leaned out of the car. “And I want that coffee and chocolate, too! Don’t forget it!” She snapped her fingers several times. “Hurry it up already! Burning daylight here!” The car door slammed, but her lips kept moving. Dean had a pretty good idea what she was saying.

“I’ll keep princess company if you want to get the other stuff,” he told Sam.

Sam stared at him a minute. “No, I think _you_ should get her her coffee and chocolate.”

“Why me?”

“You need to ask? Dean, come on.” He waggled his fingers. “Give me the keys. I’ll start the car.”

He handed over the keys, gave Jo one last look, and returned to the building. Dean stood in front of the vending machine, perusing the selection of candy bars. What would Jo like? After a minute, he chose the plainest of the chocolate bars and pocketed it, then got a cup of coffee and went to the car. Once inside, he turned to look at Jo, handing the cup over the seat to her.

“Where’s the chocolate,” she asked. “You did say I could still have the chocolate as well as the coffee.”

“What’s the magic word?”

Her brows rose. “Give me the chocolate or I’ll kick you in the balls the next chance I get?”

“That’s a sentence, not a word.” Dean drew the bar from his pocket. “And you know, Jo, you keep flirting with me like this and I might think you care.” He winked at her.

“Screw off.”

He held up the chocolate bar, waved it. “Magic word?”

“Dean.” Sam shook his head. “Just give it to her.”

“It won’t hurt her to be polite,” he answered.

Jo sipped her coffee and studied him, eyes narrowed slightly. “You want me to be polite after you kidnapped me? Are you screwed in the head?” 

“There’s that possibility. You want the chocolate or not?”

She sighed. “Please.”

He handed it over. “There. That wasn’t bad, was it?”

Jo set the bar on the seat beside her and Dean caught the glimpse of a smile before she turned her head to stare out the window. It was nice to see her smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

There had been a connection between them earlier. Jo had felt it right then when he’d handed her the chocolate bar. A genuine connection.

“Almost there.” Sam shifted in the seat. 

“Yeah,” Dean pulled over, “ but we’re stopping for the night. We’re going to have a semi-nice meal, watch some tv, sleep in beds, and have all day tomorrow for sightseeing. Any objections?”

Both heads turned, their eyes on her. Jo gave them a smile so sweet it’d put a diabetic into a coma in under ten seconds. “Looking forward to it,” she said in an overly bright tone that made Sam laugh a little and Dean quirk a brow at her.

They were in Nebraska now. She’d been paying attention to the signs, tension building inside her as she anticipated…something. Jo didn’t know what she was anticipating, only that whatever it was was coming. She wondered where exactly they were going. Neither would say.

Dinner was at a family restaurant across from their motel, a pleasant affair given the circumstances. Jo didn’t try to rouse anyone’s suspicions, grateful for a decent meal. She ate well, even admitting her headache to Sam. The pain pills he gave her didn’t completely take care of the ache in her head, they simply dialed it back down to a dull throbbing that she could deal with.

TV was dismal, nothing on that she was interested in. Dean flipped channels and Sam made calls outside. Jo wondered who he was talking to, but as she didn’t really care, the wondering didn’t last long. She slipped off her shoes and yawned. 

Dean flipped off the tv and held up the handcuffs, dangling them from his fingers. “You’re tired, I’m tired. Time for nighty-night.”

Jo shook her head. “Oh come on. You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious. We need sleep and I won’t get any unless you’re cuffed either to me or the bed. Which’ll it be, sweetheart?” His mood had greatly improved after an evening of decent food and mindless television.

She chose the bed, climbing beneath the covers and adjusting them. He handcuffed her to the side that had nothing she could reach for. No Gideon Bible, no alarm clock, nothing. She couldn’t even reach the curtains to tug on the cord and open them. There was smooth, blank wall on her side of the bed. Only one wrist was confined -- her right one. He’d asked which side she slept on. She’d accepted that he didn’t already know.

The room went quiet as Dean settled on the other side of the bed. He’d left the light on for Sam, whose voice could be heard faintly through the door. His conversation sounded business-like in tone.

Jo closed her eyes. She kept them closed as Sam came in the room and drifted to sleep before he’d turned out the light.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam thought Dean wanted a ‘moment’ with Jo too much; that when the ‘moment’ came it’d be a let-down because his anticipation had been high. He sat up and looked over at the other bed. Though Dean had most of the bed to sleep on, he’d gravitated in sleep to the spot right beside Jo, turned facing her with one hand close to her body, like he’d been reaching for her in dreams.

They were making progress with her. He just didn’t think it was any of their doing really. He suspected that, like he had, her mind was rebelling against Zachariah’s programming and it had simply taken the time since her death and resurrection to get to this point. The human body was amazing in how it could heal itself. He had no doubt that that was what was happening, too. Jo’s mind was healing from what Zachariah had done, those connections Castiel had said were shredded slowly knitting together. 

It was a good thing, in his opinion, that she had them with her to explain some of those things she’d be dreaming about. Otherwise, she might have thought she was going completely crazy.

He got out of bed and dressed, a little proud that he’d managed to sleep a total of four hours this time. There were human details attached to having a soul that he’d forgotten when without it -- such as the restorative properties of a good nights rest. When not sleeping, he hadn’t gotten those benefits and now that he was, Sam decided he was better for it.

It had been a long road for him. Dean, admittedly, hadn’t done a very good job of selling the benefits of having a soul very well. He’d left out the good things involved. Sam was glad he’d gotten his soul back after it was all said and done, despite the pains that went with it.

To feel again…. Honest emotions, the good and the bad, running through him on a daily basis. Not simply sensory sensations, but also the emotional. It was almost a heady rush at times and occasionally, he’d felt he was experiencing something for the first time when he knew he wasn’t. He’d become himself again, whole once more, and that process had been painful. He still had many things to deal with, of course, but Dean was there, helping him through it. The road to full recovery was going to take awhile.

Sam went into the bathroom. 

The same could be said about Jo, he decided. Her road to self was going to take awhile, even if the memories came whooshing back in a single wave. There’d be things she was going to need to deal with, such as the loss of Ellen. She’d have to experience grief for that, maybe anger for what had been done to her. Emotions. He thought she’d feel some of them very keenly for awhile. Like him. Like Cas had when he’d briefly become human. 

He wondered if Castiel missed the emotions of being human. Did he long for them? Maybe one of these days he and Cas would have the time to sit down together and compare experiences. He smiled a little at the thought, imagining Castiel thinking such a conversation was pointless yet engaging in it anyway because it was practice at human interaction that he sorely needed.

Like nerdy humans, nerdy angels sometimes weren’t the best at human interaction.

Sam left the bathroom and clicked off the light.

Jo made a noise, moving restlessly beneath the covers, rolling onto her side to face Dean. The position looked awkward because of her handcuffed wrist. She made another noise, this time louder. Dean’s hand raised, fumbled a moment along her side, then found her hip and smoothed along it in what looked to be a comforting pass.

“S’okay,” Dean mumbled.

Both remained sound asleep.

Interesting. Dean rousing enough to note Jo needing comfort in her sleep.

Sam studied them a long moment. It was funny in a way. Dean had craved a normal life so badly, yet upon hearing from Cas that Jo had a normal, albeit not very good, life he’d jumped to go after her and get the hunter back. He was desperate for that. Did he even see the contradiction in it? Jo had normal in her mind as her life, given to her by Zachariah no matter what his intentions had been. She could -- if the dreams didn’t force her into true reality -- live that life until death. Dean though, sought to return her to her natural state, a life he’d claimed could have no sense of normal or even happiness. He was _discounting_ that normal life, rejecting it in Jo’s stead. Granted, the old Jo would want that. She’d want Dean and Sam both to fight to get her back.

And Dean knew it. He knew what Jo would want in the situation and was acting accordingly. He had her figured out somewhat.

There was a connection between Jo and Dean, a spark Sam could see growing as they traveled and one that had been there beneath all of their interactions since they’d first met that day long ago in the Roadhouse; a tiny seed of ‘maybe’ and ‘what if’. It was there and Sam hoped, for Dean and Jo’s sake, that it could continue to grow and heal some of Dean’s issues with women, family, and the hunting life. They’d discussed the possibility of hunter girlfriends, he and Dean. If they got Jo back in one piece, perhaps Dean could find out what that was like. Sam suspected there was a world of difference between a civilian girlfriend and a hunter girlfriend who’d been raised in the life to some extent.

Dean deserved romantic happiness.

Maybe Jo could be the one to make him happy that way.

~~~~~~~~~

Jo’s dreams had been more flashes of tracking down monsters and killing them, though she wasn’t entirely sure they weren’t fueled by her current association with Sam and Dean. They accepted all of those things as normal, if their conversations along the way had been any indication. In fact, their calm acceptance of all of that in turn helped to keep her calm about those things she was dreaming. 

It was still early when she opened her eyes. The motel was quiet. While she’d expected Dean to be under the covers with her, he wasn’t, sprawled instead on his stomach on top of them. Jo remained still, watching him. He was a gorgeous man physically. There was something appealing about Dean Winchester that went beyond the physical. She was attracted to him in more than just that fundamental way. Her attraction went deeper, a thing she didn’t quite understand. 

Did she still hate him? Jo didn’t think she did anymore. He certainly wasn’t the man of her memories. But who was he in her dreams? She’d yet to see much of him in them, a glimpse here and there.

“You need to use the bathroom or anything? I could unlock the cuffs.”

She raised her head. Sam was on the other bed, wide awake, with papers, books, and magazines strewn about him, his laptop open beside him. He looked like he’d been up for hours “Soon.”

“How’s your head? Pain gone yet?”

“The pain is bearable, but it’s still there.”

“Hungry?”

“A little.”

“I’m gonna head out for coffee soon. Still too early to think about waking Dean up. I can bring something back.”

“Can’t we get a sit-down breakfast? I’m tired of McDonalds.”

“After yesterday? You ran again, Jo.”

“Do you blame me, Sam? Besides, I behaved at dinner. No messages in lipstick on the bathroom mirror or pleas for help to the staff as I walked by them.”

Beside her, Dean stirred, arm snaking across her stomach. He made a satisfied noise low in his throat, hand grasping her side, slipping a bit beneath her t-shirt, thumb caressing. He shifted closer. With a last unintelligible mumble, he sighed, and stilled once more.

Jo shot an irritated glare his way and continued, lowering her voice. “You two kidnapped me, keep telling me my life isn’t my life, that my reality is fantasy and my dreams are reality, and you wonder why I ran when you turned your backs? I’d think you had to be smart to get into Stanford.”

He closed the laptop. “How did you know I went there? I mean, if we never met before the other day, how would you know that?”

Jo turned her face away, looking at the ceiling. There was a large water stain in the shape of Texas. He made a good point. How did she know some of those things that had been popping up in her head? She shouldn’t. And she _had_ met him as early as Duluth, likely before, which meant she had known Dean had a brother and had been acquainted with Sam. It all circled back to what she thought was dreams being truth and her life wasn’t what it seemed. “I’ll admit we did meet before then.”

Getting up, he snagged the keys and came over, crouching beside the bed. “Have you remembered anything else?” He undid the cuffs, but Jo couldn’t get up due to Dean’s arm weighing her down.

“Little things.”

“Like what?” He indicated Dean’s arm. “I can move that if you want to get up.”

“Please.”

He lifted Dean’s arm and Jo slid from the bed and went into the bathroom. When she emerged, he’d moved to the table. She joined him.

“I’m getting the feeling that key things I have as real memories aren’t actually what I think they are. Tell me the truth about Duluth, Sam. What was going on there?”

The truth was wild. A demon had taken him over and tried to get Dean to kill him. The telling took awhile. Sam gave her more detail that fleshed out what she already knew. 

She shook her head. “You know, it sounds like a movie plot, right?” He agreed with a slow nod of his head. “What I can’t get straight are the things the…demon…said to me. Things about my dad and about him and your dad.”

Sam crossed his arms on the table top. “I’d like to tell you, Jo, really I would, but I can’t. Not until you remember that part. You can’t think it’s a prompting from something either Dean or I have said. What you see that comes back to you has to be from your own mind. You understand?”

“That’s what Dean told me. He wouldn’t give me details on anything. Philadelphia. Carthage.” She saw him flinch at the last one. “You flinched, Sam. Why did you flinch?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, I want to know.”

“You will. Eventually, you’ll remember Carthage, too.”

His voice held such sadness that Jo wasn’t sure she wanted to remember Carthage or what had happened there to cause that sorrow.

Pain lanced through her temples, spread across her forehead, and settled behind her eyes like a really bad migraine. She hissed from it.

__

She couldn’t move. Sam knelt beside her, holding her hand for a brief moment, replaced soon by Dean, who kissed her and then…. Then that woman she’d been dreaming about was there with her, comforting, maternal. ‘You got me, Jo.’ Numbness took her the rest of the way and finally…the waiting darkness engulfed her.

“Jo?”

She blinked, dislodging tears she hadn’t even realized were there. The pieces of memory clicked into place inside her.

His hand covered hers. “You okay?”

Jo pulled her hand from beneath his and wiped the tears away. “I’m fine, Sam.” She turned her head.

Sam had said the day before that she’d been a damn good hunter by ‘the end’ and she knew that when she’d shared that kiss with Dean it had felt as though her world was ending. Had her world literally ended? Had she died that day in Carthage?

“You’re not fine. I can see it. You just remembered something. What was it?”

She was saved from answering by Dean waking up and asking Sam to get coffee.

The true memory of that darkness stayed with her, an unwanted ghost as they prepared to meet the day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes are from ‘Everybody Loves a Clown’ and ‘Simon Said’.

Dean drove to the Roadhouse site, keeping an eye on Jo in the rearview mirror. She didn’t look out the windows, sitting with her hands clasped on her lap, staring at the front passenger seatback, a pensive scowl on her face. He recalled seeing that scowl once before: after Ellen had told her about his dad’s part in Bill Harvelle’s death. This time, Jo wouldn’t say what was wrong, remaining silent.

He could feel the tension growing in the car between all three of them.

The site had been cleaned up, all of the pieces of the Roadhouse rubble gone, leaving a bare lot overgrown with weeds. A ‘for sale’ sign hung at an angle from a post. Dean parked and got out, slamming the door closed. He hadn’t spent nearly the amount of time here that Jo had, nor did he have the emotional investment she did, so he thought he’d see some reaction from her. He _hoped_ to see a reaction.

She got out, looking around at the site. He thought he saw her chin quiver and stepped close to her, watching for some sign of recognition.

“Jo?”

She walked around the site, her steps slow. Occasionally, her gaze would raise, as though she was looking at a building that was no longer there.

Sam leaned against the car. “She remembered something this morning. I think it was something about Carthage. Clammed right up.”

“You talked about Carthage? What did she say?”

“Just that you wouldn’t tell her anything. I said I wouldn’t either and she had a reaction. Looked like she was in pain.”

“I don’t like seeing her hurting.” It made him remember Carthage all the more and how he’d felt at that moment he’d been carrying her into that store. He’d seen the shock and pain on her face and it had seeped into him. Dean hated the reminder of that day.

“Do you think we’re hurting her by forcing this?”

Were they hurting her? Maybe. It seemed to Dean though that her pains got worse the closer they got to places she was familiar with. He crossed his arms. Jo was staring up again, right at where the sign on the front of the building had been. “I think she’s remembering something right now.” He raised his voice. “Anything, Jo?”

Her shrug was unconcerned, almost bored, and definitely too casual. She was putting on a show for them.

Sam sighed and slid his hands in his jeans pockets. “You sure about that, Dean?”

“She’s seeing something whether she’ll admit it or not. Don’t you see it, Sam?” It was inconceivable to him that Sam didn’t notice it because it was obvious to him.

“Not really. She looks bored.”

Dean glanced at him. “Dude, you need to brush up on your observational skills.”

Jo picked her way back over the uneven ground to them and he told her to get in the car, already planning the route to their next destination in his head.

He and Sam had never stayed at the house, but they both knew where it was. It was a tiny ranch house only a few miles from the Roadhouse. It was far enough that Ellen had had privacy and a separation from her work life and still close enough that she could be there in minutes. Dean pulled up to the curb. They didn’t go inside, as another family lived there and were at home, but Jo stared at it the same way she had the Roadhouse site. If she wasn’t remembering, at the very least she was feeling that the places were familiar to her.

The cemetery was last before they headed out to Bobby’s. Dean was hyper-sensitive to Jo’s reactions, noting the tiny things she was trying to hide. A flash of pain in her eyes, either emotional or physical. The sadness. The tension in her posture. Dean saw it all and was impatient for the hurts to all finally go away for her.

She stood over the stone, one hand raised, fingers rubbing at her forehead and temple. When she spoke, he heard frustration loud and clear in her tone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jo didn’t want to get out of the car. Getting out meant she’d have to move and attempt to pretend everything was normal when it wasn’t.

She opened the door and got out, taking Dean’s invitation to walk around only because she was too antsy to stand still.

Being here was a bad idea.

She felt as though her brain was scraping against her skull and it wasn’t stopping. The pressure and pain just kept increasing, rising like a pitcher being filled up. The images she kept seeing were flashes that were too quick to make sense. She could scarcely notice one before another was eclipsing it, over and over.

_That woman again. A man in a leather jacket, smiling and laughing with that woman, drawing her close despite her feigned protests and kissing her with a fervent passion. Jo playing a video game. Putting money in a jukebox._

More and more, confusing flashes that gave her no insight into the life Sam and Dean were calling her real one. They were all scenes in a barroom and as Jo walked around the site, stepping carefully so she wouldn’t trip over debris tangled in the weeds, she could almost see the ghost image of a building and a neon sign.

Somehow, she managed to give Dean a indifferent shrug when he asked if she remembered anything. His frustration manifested in a curt, “Get in the car then.”

The house he drove them to sparked more scenes, ever faster, speeding through her mind. Too fast, too many, there and gone before she could actively attempt to process them.

A cemetery was next. It took awhile to find the stone they were looking for and Jo suppressed a whimper as a sharp pain lanced through her temples. She stumbled, Dean’s hands catching her, keeping her from tumbling to the ground.

“You okay?”

She really wished he’d quit asking that. She was far from okay at present.

“There.” Sam pointed. “Right over here.”

Jo stood between them, looking down at the stone. ‘William Anthony Harvelle’. Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes and she wasn’t entirely sure why. That name…. Jo knew she knew it somehow. She knew the name, had known the man, and he’d meant something to her. But what?

_‘He passed away.’ An empty coffin lowered into a grave. Rain making muddy puddles around the gravesite. ‘It was a long time ago.’ Herself looking up at Dean. ‘He was a hunter.’_

She took a step back from the grave, then another one. ‘I want to go. Can we go please? I mean it. Can we just go?”

“Why?”

She wiped her perspiring hands on her jean clad thighs. “I…I don’t see the point of this. It’s a grave, Dean.”

“Whose grave?” He faced her.

“I don’t know,” Jo continued to back up, shaking her head, “and I don’t really care.” The tears she’d been fighting began to fall in a hot rush and she wiped at them, hating that they were seeing her cry when she didn’t understand the reason for it.

“See, I think you do care, Jo. I think that somewhere inside your head, you know who he was and you remember what he meant to you. I don’t think that’s something Zachariah could completely take away from you. Trust me. I get what that man meant to you.”

“I’m not standing here in a cemetery,” she protested, those tears clouding her vision. “So we might as well go wherever you two have planned next because I’m heading for the car.”

“Wait.” He reached for her, hand grasping her arm and Jo twisted.

“Get off me!” He wasn’t letting go, his other hand on her too, his grip hard. Jo tugged, trying to desperately to get free and was unable. The tears kept coming and all of a sudden, she didn’t want to run from Dean. She wanted to accept solace in his arms.

Where would be the harm in it? What harm would come from letting him hold her while she cried?

With a hitching breath from her sobs, she stopped fighting him and stepped close, laying her head on his chest. “My head hurts and it won’t stop,” she told him in a whisper. “It really hurts, Dean.”

He embraced her. “We’ll get you something for that,” he told her, one hand cupping the back of her head. “Sam?”

“Last dose she had was last night.”

She felt Sam’s hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.

“You knew?”

“She mentioned she had a headache, so I gave her something.”

Neither rushed her back to the car, Sam digging out a bottle of pills and handing it to Dean, who shook out a couple. Jo dry swallowed them and got in the backseat. She laid down and, as they began to drive, she let herself be lulled into sleep.

_The man before her had a commanding presence and she hated him. Jo knew she hated him without knowing who he was. This man had hurt her and shown no qualms about doing so._

_“Joanna, Joanna.” He clucked his tongue. “You know, I never thought anyone on this earth could be any more of a pain in the ass than Dean Winchester, but you…. You.” The man shook a finger at her almost playfully. “You are steadily climbing to that spot of dishonor. I’ve given you one job, just one, and you can’t even do that right.”_

_She backed up as far as she could go, heart pounding fast, terrified of him._

_“You’re just like your stubborn bitch of a mother. Two peas in a pod.” His smirk chilled her clear through to her bones. “Let’s fix that once and for all.”_ _His hand stretched out…._

Jo woke up screaming, sliding across the backseat as the car fishtailed. She sat up, reaching for the door handle and tugging even before the car was stopped, tumbling to the ground and scraping her hands, scrambling towards the ditch.

_“You’ll do what I tell you if I have to slice and dice your brain to make you obey.”_

She threw up in the weeds, the heaves increasing the pain in her head, a pain that wasn’t lessening despite the pills she’d taken earlier. As she was crouched, she felt an arm go around her stomach, bracing her until the heaves were done, and a hand holding her hair back from her face. It was Dean, his body warm against her. She coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The throbbing in her temples made her vision seem to pulse in and out of focus.

Sam knelt beside her, holding out the water bottle that had been in the backseat with her. “Here. Have a swig.”

She rinsed her mouth and spit, then carefully took a sip. When her stomach didn’t rebel again, she took a drink, then another, finishing the bottle. Slowly, Dean and Sam stood, giving her room. Jo rubbed her forehead with the fingers of both hands. She couldn’t think straight and gritted her teeth.

“What did you remember,” Sam asked and she didn’t have to look up to know there was kind concern in his eyes because she could hear it in his voice.

Jo was in no mood for kind concern and pushed up to stand, her legs shaking. The headache made her snappish and when Dean reached for her arm, she lost it. All of her frustrations at not being able to escape them and at her ongoing headache and flashes of weird memory reared up. She whirled, punching at him.

Vaguely, she was aware of them wrestling her to the car and Dean telling Sam to, ‘Get us to Bobby’s’, as he got in the backseat with her. His weight pressed her into the seat, his hand covering her mouth -- until she bit at it.

He cursed. “Drive faster, Sammy,” he barked out.

She didn’t know how much time passed, merely that it was spent in a cycle of fighting him, recovering, and fighting him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam drove. It wouldn’t take long to get to Bobby’s now. They’d only been about twenty minutes away when Jo had woken up screaming.

Dean stayed in the backseat with Jo. She seemed to have developed a ton of extra arms and legs, fighting him tooth and nail, as though the closer they got to hard truth she could see, the more she’d been programmed to resist.

He was feeling quite beaten up and was ready to tie and gag her again if he could get her in the right position.

There was the sound of sirens.

“Uh…Dean? We’ve got a problem.”

“Don’t stop, Sam.”

The siren’s followed them to Bobby’s house. Sam got out and opened the door, taking hold of Jo, who grabbed anything to keep from being pulled out. The seat, the door handle…the waist of Dean’s jeans. As a consequence, he was half pulled out with her.

“That’s a cop car,” Jo screamed as Sam hoisted her up onto his shoulder. “You two shits are in such trouble now! Put me down Sam!”

Dean sat up. Bobby had come outside and Sheriff Mills was getting out of her car. “Hey, Sheriff,” he called out. “You look really pretty today. New hairstyle?” He directed his most charming grin at her.

She put her hands on her hips as she approached. “You’re lucky it was me out there, Dean. Do I want to know what’s going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Sam told her in a smooth, serious tone that was somewhat marred in effectiveness by Jo’s thrashing and yelling.

“It is too what it looks like,” Jo’s interjected, pounding her fists on Sam’s back. “It’s kidnapping!”

“Ignore her. She’s not in her right mind.”

“Got that right,” Dean muttered.

Bobby came over and bent, looking at Jo. “What the hell --” He stepped back in a hurry as one of Jo’s fist almost connected with his face. “It really is Jo.”

“Please help me,” Jo yelled. “My name is Joanna Elizabeth Dunn. I’m from Rhode Island. I was kidnapped from my apartment --”

“That’s not her name,” Dean said loudly over her.

Jodie cocked her head. “Demon?”

“No.”

“Other supernatural creature?”

“No.”

“Do I want any details whatsoever?”

“Probably not.”

“Did you kidnap her?”

“That part might be true,” he conceded with a nod.

She sighed. “Dean….”

“Give us twenty-four hours, Sheriff. Please.” He held up his hands. “I promise, if we can’t get some resolution on this in another day, you can come back here and drive her off yourself.” He didn’t tell her that if there was no resolution, they’d be leaving at hour twenty-three, before she could come back for Jo.

Jodie’s expression indicated she knew exactly what he was planning to do. “Twenty-four, Dean, but I want answers when I get back.”

“We get ‘em, you get ‘em,” he agreed.

With a final long stare at Jo and Sam, Jodie got into her car and drove off. Dean heaved a sigh of relief and led the way inside.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo was beginning to feel sick from Sam’s shoulder against her stomach when he finally set her down inside the house. She staggered back, gasping for breath, and turning.

Her dad was right there.

But while it was him, it wasn’t.

She backed away from him, and Sam and Dean, running into the fridge, sliding past it, feeling herself beginning to lose her balance. Her hands grasped at the kitchen counter and she couldn’t seem to get enough air.

_She saw him sitting in a wheelchair, herself at that very kitchen table drinking with the dark blond woman and the man in the suit from the diner, and herself at the fridge, Dean propositioning her in a semi-vague manner._

More and more. The scenes whirled, dizzying. She gasped for breath, still unable to get that air she needed. The pounding in her head seemed to echo the beating of her heart.

Jo fainted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean ran to catch Jo as she fell, dropping heavily to his knees as her limp form dragged him to the floor. “We’d better get her in lock down before she comes to.”

They put her in the panic room, Sam volunteering to sit outside the door for awhile so Dean could explain the situation to Bobby. They sat at the kitchen table with coffee, Dean spilling the tale of what they knew so far and admitting that while she appeared to be regaining memories, they were at a loss as to how to escalate that. “It’s all just pieces. The most she admitted to remembering at one time was when Meg possessed Sam. Other than that it’s,” he shrugged, “pieces, like I said.”

“Called Castiel to see if he’s got anything?”

“Thought we’d see if you had any ideas first.”

Bobby thought a minute. “Well, I do have one, considering what you’ve told me so far.” He elaborated, a simple plan that might actually help. “It’s still a long-shot, but no more so than what you were already doing.”

“If that works, you’re a genius, Bobby.”

“I’ll set it up.” He got up from the table. “Give Cas a call.”

Sam came in, pouring a cup of coffee and bringing it to the table. “She’s awake and pretending she isn’t. I tried to get her to talk, but she’s not interested. I think seeing Bobby shocked her pretty badly.”

He nodded. Jo wasn’t the type to faint under normal conditions. Dean reached for his cell phone. “Thought I’d call Cas, see if he’s got anything.”

“He might.”

It was sensible to call Castiel, right? As fast as Cas zipped around, surely he’d discovered something to help by now. Dean cleared his throat and dialed, launching into an explanation of what had been going on as soon as Castiel answered.

The reception Dean received wasn’t what he’d expected. Cas was terse, voice clipped and even annoyed. Dean asked him if he was okay. Not that Cas would actually tell him. He played things close. As predicted, Castiel refused to tell him what was wrong, instead stating rightly that Dean had made the decision to help Jo and therefore _was_ his case. Like Cas hadn’t ever helped on a case before. There wasn’t any rule against it that Dean was aware of.

There was a click and silence.

“Cas?” Dean held the phone out from his ear, frowning at it before putting it back. “Cas,” he repeated. With a sigh, he hung up. Great. Now he’d pissed off the angel and wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened.

“What’d he have to say?” Sam sipped at his coffee.

“He hung up on me.”

Sam’s eyes widened in astonishment. “What do you mean he hung up on you?”

“He hung up on me. He’s being pissy about something.” Dean wondered what that thing was. It’d help if Cas actually told them what he was up to in that war of his. “Bottom line? We’re on our own.”

“Then I guess we keep doing what we’re doing.”

“I guess.” He’d been hoping for some insight into what the hell Zachariah had been up to with this. He dialed Cas again. It went to voicemail and he hung up. Calling over and over wasn’t going to make Cas call him back.

This plan of Bobby’s had better work because he was running out of ideas on what to do.

~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s remembering, but she’s not and…. Can’t you do something?” Dean’s tone was worried and anxious and Castiel could imagine him pacing wherever he was.

He bit back a few of Dean’s favorite swear words. Swearing wasn’t very becoming to an angel and this wasn’t the time for any sort of real conversation. Why did Dean always call right when he was in the middle of something? He was going to have to go back to keeping the phone off most of the time at this rate.

Castiel glanced around to make sure he hadn’t been followed. At least not until he had the trap set. “No, Dean I can’t do anything. I found her. If I could have fixed her, I would have. I’ve already _done_ something by informing you of her whereabouts. She’s your case, Dean, not mine. Not to mention I’ve been searching for Ellen like you wanted. I do that because I liked Ellen and wouldn’t wish to discover her in the same state as Jo. I suggest you talk to Jo, treat her,” he turned once more, eyes narrowing, “like a friend instead of someone you can yell at for answers. That might help your situation.”

There was silence a moment and then a cautious, “Are you okay, Cas?”

He snorted. “No, but I’m not going to whine about it. You chose to pursue her --”

“The case, not her.”

“Her,” Castiel corrected, impatient with Dean’s tendency to pussyfoot about his motivations. Whether he was ready to admit it or not, he’d chosen to go after Jo to save her because he wanted her. It was that simple. Deep down, Dean wanted Jo Harvelle. Things would be simpler if he’d admit it. “You chose to go to her and attempt to return her to her former self. You wanted that. You made that decision. Deal with the consequences because I can’t help you.” He ended the call, shut down the phone, and slipped it into his pocket, tilting his head back and listening carefully for his pursuer.

He didn’t have long to wait. He heard the flutter of her wings in the air, an almost delicate sound, and then she was there, appearing before him. Alone. They stared at each other. She was truly alone, coming to find him without bodyguards at her side. It was either a gutsy move or a stupid one. He wasn’t yet certain which. Was she that confident of her ability to take him on?

“Castiel.”

“Laurel.”

She stepped across the floor towards him, hands in her coat pockets, and stopped just outside his trap. “I hear you’ve been looking for Uzziel.”

“I hear you’re his social secretary these days.”

“I pass on any meeting times and places he’d be interested in. Are you interested in a meeting, Castiel? Ready to turn yourself in and stop this foolish quest of yours?”

He backed up to entice her to move closer. “Quite the career climb you’ve made recently,” he observed. “From foot soldier to a part of Raphael’s entourage. What sort of favors did you have to give out for that? What deals have you made, Laurel? ” He deliberately taunted her, implying she’d gotten her promotion from something other than battle skill. He, at least, had gotten his slight promotion through Godly favor. Hers was obviously from something else.

The two of them had never gotten along well even under the best of circumstances. The phrase ‘mutual dislike’ adequately described their feelings towards each other. Laurel had always wanted more than where she was on the angel hierarchy, not content with her lot. His own new higher level of power and status in that hierarchy would be irritating to her, especially if her own level of power was static within her promotion.

Her brows pulled down into a frown and she took two more steps right into his trap. “What do you want?”

Castiel lit the circle on fire and watched his sister angel squirm in that tight circle, her sudden panicked expression rather satisfying. When she settled in the center with a murderous glare his direction, he raised his brows. “Let’s talk resurrections.”

“I don’t know anything about the Harvelle women!”

Castiel took a few steps closer to her, tilting his head a fraction to one side. “I never mentioned them. Why would you assume I was referring to them? Are they perhaps on your mind for some reason?”

She knew she’d been caught, lips thinning into a tight line. “You think you’re so smart, Castiel.”

“What was the plan for them? You might as well tell me. I’ll get the information from you eventually.”

“Tell you? So you can kill me?” She scoffed at that. “No.”

“Maybe I won’t kill you.”

“If you don’t, Raphael and Uzziel will. I lose either way.”

“Why would they kill you?”

“The information on the women is privileged.” She crossed her arms. “What’s my incentive, Castiel? Will your side give me asylum if I tell you what I know?”

He saw the gleam of calculation in her eyes. If he promised it, she’d take it long enough to double cross him. The pain of those things he had to do in war welled up, but Cas shoved it back. No matter what happened, he was going to have to kill her before she killed him and it would likely be today, right here in this building. The only way he’d leave with the knowledge she had was over her dead body. “Of course.”

“You promise?”

“Yes. You’ll have asylum until you no longer wish it.” He assumed she’d no longer wish to have sanctuary fairly fast after she was done telling him what she knew.

Her chin raised. “Thank you. You weren’t supposed to find either of them. They’re supposed to be hidden, everything they knew turned upside down to keep them from acknowledging the hunting life or wanting to go back to it.”

“That was Raphael’s plan?”

“Yes. We were to neutralize them, keep them out of the way. They weren’t to return to hunting and certainly not together. Together they’re dangerous and add them to the Winchester ‘friends and family’ plan and they’d get in the way in a most irritating fashion.”

“What was the original plan?”

“If the Apocalypse failed, they were Zachariah’s ‘sleeper agents’.” She smirked. “He planned to manipulate the Winchesters into finding them and hopefully, the women would manage to kill them.”

“Hopefully?”

“There was…incentive added into their memories. You already discovered Jo Harvelle’s, haven’t you?”

“The abuse angle.”

“Yes. A desperate woman, frightened, ready to end that abuse once and for all.” She crossed her arms.

“Raphael wanted them neutralized.” Of course he would if he was trying to get the Apocalypse restarted. He didn’t need anyone killing Sam and Dean before that happened. “How was Jo neutralized?”

“She wasn’t. Not fully anyway. You interrupted before Uzziel could complete the task. He was removing key memories Zachariah had sanctioned when you arrived. He fled.”

Which meant that there was a good chance Uzziel hadn’t closed the connection before leaving. If he’d been in a hurry…. It was possible that the planted memories could begin to break down beneath any sort of reason. If Sam and Dean could poke enough holes in the things she claimed as memories, they might collapse like a house of cards. “And Ellen? What of her?”

Her smug expression faltered. “We’re having trouble locating her. She’s been moved from the location Zachariah put her.”

Interesting. Who would move her and why? He thought there may be more to this than he’d initially considered. “Why wait so long to neutralize them?”

“Going through Zachariah’s…files…has taken awhile. We only recently learned of them and since we can’t have either woman killing the Winchesters….” She uncrossed her arms, her hands sliding into her coat pockets. “I’ve told you what I know. May I have asylum now, Castiel?”

Raising his hand, he made the flames go down, his other hand taking hold of his sword in readiness for the attack he assumed she was going to begin. “You may.”

Laurel walked towards him.

He was disappointed to discover he was right.

She attacked as soon as she was level with him. The fight was dirty and hard. She was stronger than she looked. Castiel managed to get the upper hand and shove the knife into her chest. He let her body drop and stood for long minutes staring down at her body.

“I’m sorry, sister,” he whispered.

He headed out, searching for Uzziel’s trail. He’d find Uzziel and through Uzziel, he’d find Ellen. And then, maybe, he’d hear a ‘thank you’ from Dean.

A burble of laughter escaped Castiel’s lips. Somehow he doubted he’d ever hear that phrase from Dean and if he did?

Surely the Apocalypse would be upon them again.


	8. Chapter 8

Jo was awake.

Sam stood watching her a moment, then opened the door and went inside the panic room. He didn’t think she’d even tried the door once, her attitude having a feeling of brokenness to it, as though she’d accepted she wasn’t going to be able to escape. If she’d tried the door, she would have found it unlocked, the only guard being one of them.

He didn’t like seeing her like this and knew Dean didn’t either. This latest bit of Jo wasn’t one he’d recalled ever seeing.

Going to her, he put a hand on her arm, gently shaking her. “Jo.”

She rolled onto her back and stared up at him.

“How’s your head?”

“How do you think it is,” she snapped.

“Worse.” Maybe she wasn’t cowed after all. Maybe she was just regrouping after the latest blow to her sanity.

“Give the man a gold star.”

Crouching down, he snagged her hand. “How badly did you skin up your hands earlier?”

“You’re just now remembering that?”

Her left palm wasn’t bad, a slight abrasion on the heel of her palm. Her right one, however, had a dark line in the center of her palm. Sam peered at it. It was a long splinter. He touched the open end. They’d need tweezers and a needle to get it out. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “We’ll get this out for you.”

“Damn right you’ll get it out.”

He started to stand, but her left hand grasped his shirt, tugging him back down.

“Who was that man up there? You called him Bobby. He…he looks just like my dad, but I know he isn’t.” She shook her head, hair tangling on the thin pillow. “So who is he and how do I know him? And don’t tell me it’ll come to me, Sam, because while I’m seeing things, they’re still not making any sense. I know I know him.”

“And you know I can’t tell you.”

She shoved him back and rolled onto her side again. “Then what good are you?”

It was an obvious dismissal and he left, heading up the stairs. He’d get supplies together and let Dean come take out that splinter for her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean paced the kitchen, knowing he was rambling almost incoherently and honestly not caring.

Bobby was doing dishes. The calm way he was scrubbing pans and rinsing them irritated Dean. He supposed he’d feel better if he wasn’t the only one who seemed the least bit frantic to get Jo back in one piece. Sam was acting all calm, cool, and collected, a thing he still did even after getting his soul back. His calm was a different sort than it had been, not the soulless inconsideration he’d shown, but rather a quiet, mature, practical calm like Bobby was displaying now.

“How can you just stand there doing dishes?”

“Will you sit your ass down and shut up,” Bobby said in a harsh bark. “Worrying on it ain’t gonna get her back faster. You’ve done all you can for the time being and can’t do anything more until she wakes up.”

Something Sam had told him, too. Only his words had been , ‘Can’t do anything until she admits she’s awake,’ because Jo _was_ awake. She just wasn’t talking, lying on the cot that was chained to the wall, her back to the door. What betrayed her were the movements of her body when they talked to her. She’d shift on the cot ever so slightly. Standing outside, Dean had heard her crying.

“I can’t sit down,” he admitted, continuing on with his stories of the past couple days as Bobby moved on to drying the dishes and pans. He was going over old ground that Bobby had already heard and knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. With a snort of disgust at the entire situation, he wound down his soliloquy with an emphatic, “My God, Bobby, she’s a pain in the ass!”

He dried his hands on a dishtowel that had seen better days and replied, “You expected Jo Harvelle to just _let_ you kidnap her? You remember her at all? Petite, feisty blond with a mouth on her that made her mama proud?”

“Do you have any idea how may times we had to run after her?”

“Like I said.”

Sam came into the kitchen. He picked up the first aid kit that was out on the counter and started back towards the basement, then stopped. “Is this right, Dean?”

“Sam?”

“Is what we’re doing with Jo right? The making her remember. I mean, it’s causing her real physical pain now.”

Bobby set the towel down and crossed his arms. “He has a point. If she’s been fine in that new life this long, maybe making her remember is wrong. Maybe something good could come from Zachariah’s evil. You could let her go, let her go back to that life. He set her down there without the knowledge --”

“Playing devil’s advocate now? He took away who she is. How is right not to give that back to her?”

“I’m just sayin’ --”

“I get it, okay? What’s to say something won’t see her, remember her, and go after her? How would she defend herself without knowing who she is and what she can do? And what if she remembers on her own and we didn’t push this? How betrayed would she feel by that?” He shook his head. “I, for one, have no intention of letting her down again. Besides, she’s remembering already and pretty soon it’ll all come crashing through for her anyway.”

Bobby’s stare was hard. “Just checking your motivations here.”

“My motivations.” He raised his brows. “Jo would want this and you both know it.”

Sam waved the kit at him. “Speaking of what Jo wants…. She’s got a nasty splinter in her right palm. Why don’t you take care of it?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because you need to spend time with her; time that might bring back more memories, that’s why.”

Snatching the kit from his hands, Dean went down into the basement. Sam had left the panic room door wide open and while he’d expected to find Jo at least up out of the cot, she wasn’t. “You going to lay there and mope all day?” He snapped on a light, directed it towards the cot so he’d have light to work by.

“You going to be an insensitive prick all day?”

“Sit up. Let’s get that splinter out.”

With an irritated sigh and a long glare, she sat and held out her hand. Setting the kit down, he studied the splinter. “You don’t do anything by halves, do you, Jo? Damn, that’s a big splinter.” He opened the kit and started probing at the wound. She hissed. He got a good grip on the splinter with the tweezers and paused, thinking back to an exchange they’d had that one time she’d doctored him up. With a quick glance up at her, he said, “Don’t be such a baby,” and pulled the splinter free.

Her response was a welcome one, the light of comprehension in her eyes. It wasn’t a full return of her memories -- he thought that would be a bigger reaction. It was, however, a spark of knowledge of who he really was.

Jo knew him.

~~~~~~~~~~

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense and Jo decided not to even bother. That man upstairs, though he looked and sounded like her father, wasn’t her father and she couldn’t even begin to puzzle out who he really was. She knew him, knew she knew him, and was too tired to figure it out.

Her life was a fantasy, her memories a lie, and she couldn’t fight it. Nor could she fight the headache. It was there and it wasn’t going away. This place…. Something here made it the worst it had been. If she had the chance to run, she knew she’d take it, despite not getting very far the other times. Jo had to try and keep trying.

Periodically, Sam or Dean would come down and talk to her, try to get her to talk. She was just so very tired though. Constant pain sapped the strength from her limbs.

Sam came in, looked at her hands and soon, it was Dean there with her, trying to take that horrible splinter out. He told her not to be a baby and she remembered Duluth with more clarity.

_Her pulling something…a bullet…from his shoulder, staunching the flow of blood with gauze and taping it up. Dean hissing, ‘Butcher.’ and her replying, ‘You’re welcome.’ The tangled emotions she’d felt right then for him had ranged from sad acceptance to friendship. She hadn’t loved him, not really, but she’d liked him a lot, dreaming in idle moments that he noticed her and turned to her for more than the friendship that had been between them. Right then, she’d acknowledged that he probably never would see her waiting there. She’d given up on the dream of Dean Winchester._

She hissed as Dean pulled a splinter from her palm, echoing the word he’d spoken then. “Butcher.”

He paused, holding up the tweezers and the sliver of wood. “You’re welcome.”

The true memory was enough to know that he was definitely not the brutish man she’d been made to believe he was. He was a friend and he was doing this, all of it, because he cared for her. “I know you.” What she still didn’t know, however, was what their exact relationship had been. That kiss she knew they’d had…. Had it been a goodbye kiss of a friend who’d finally seen all they could have been? Or the bittersweet kiss of a man losing the lover he’d recently taken, regretting what they could have had and wouldn’t? She knew she’d given up on the dream of having him as hers in Duluth, yet had that dream ever come true? There was still information she didn’t know.

He bandaged up her palm. “Care to come upstairs awhile? Have some coffee, maybe some food?”

“No more coffee. I’ve had enough for a very long time.”

“Beer then?”

Jo licked her lips, wanting very much to ask him what they’d been to each other and why he’d fought so hard for her. The only conclusion she could come to was that they’d been more than friends. Why else would he fight like that to make her remember? “A beer would be good.”

She sat at the kitchen table with him, watching Bobby warily. “I remember you in a wheelchair,” she blurted out.

He nodded. “I was in one for awhile.”

“Did you just heal and not need it anymore?” She wasn’t trying to be insensitive with a frank asking, just to gather information.

“Something like that.” Like Dean and Sam, he wouldn’t elaborate.

The kitchen had a warm, lived-in feel to it. Jo was comfortable there, as much so as if it was her own kitchen. She knew if she got up and foraged in the fridge, she wouldn’t feel weird about it and none of them would say a word.

A phone rang, Bobby answering it. He said something about FBI and hung up. Across from her, Dean sighed.

“You ready to tell us what you remember?”

She shook her head. “None if it makes sense. Maybe later.”

Night rolled in and it was with relief that Jo realized they weren’t going to stick her back in that basement room and lock the door. Nor did Dean handcuff her. In fact, they seemed to forget altogether about keeping her contained.

She lay on the couch, a blanket over her, listening to the sounds of the house quieting as they all settled down into sleep -- except Sam. Sam was frustratingly awake as the hours past. It was closing in on dawn before he laid down and even longer before his breaths turned even in sleep. Her heart pounded hard and fast in her chest. Slowly, she got up and slipped on her shoes, careful not to wake Dean or Sam. She left the house and moved down the driveway as the first rosy rays of sunlight peered over the horizon.

Nearing the end of the driveway, Jo came to a stop. There was a car parked in the center of the drive, blocking it. She recognized the vehicle before her and stepped to it, putting out her hands and touching the hood. It was cold, of course, though for a second she could almost hear an amused voice saying, “If Bobby can start it, he can move it. Grab your bag, Jo, we’ll hike the drive.” After a moment, she went to the passenger door, opened it, and eased inside. It was dusty inside and smelled faintly musty. The dust tickled her nostrils and she rubbed at her nose until the urge passed. Jo knew this vehicle. She’d ridden in it many times. Smiling, she ran her hand along the dashboard, seeing a flash of herself with her bare feet propped up, painting her toenails, a breeze ruffling her hair.

With a frown, she leaned over and down, feeling beneath the driver’s seat and pulling out the slim item there. It was a small photo album with a stylized ‘H’ in the center.

Without hesitation, she flipped it open. The first picture was of a smiling couple and a toddler standing before a building. The sign on the building read ‘Harvelle’s Roadhouse’. She gasped, felt the pain in her head deepen, yet she couldn’t look away from the picture.

Images assailed her, harder and faster than before, but somehow with a cohesion they’d lacked previously.

A barroom. The woman from her dreams showing all sorts of emotions, from happiness to sadness. A man in a leather jacket showing similar emotions. Jo as a child being picked up by that man and swung around, giggling and smiling.

A house. That same woman cooking in a kitchen, Jo herself arguing with her as she assisted her in chopping vegetables. Jo doing homework at a scarred wooden table, the woman leaning over her muttering in disgust that what they taught in those business classes was useless these days. Unpacking boxes while the woman asked why she’d had to quit in the middle of the semester. Playing cards at that kitchen table.

The cemetery. Standing crying in the rain as an empty coffin was lowered into the gaping hole in the earth. Laying flowers on that grave.

This car. Arguing with the woman, but in a warm way, as though the argument was an old familiar one they knew they’d never see eye to eye on. Studying a map with her, reading off information from a notebook to her.

The house she’d just left. Planning something big and very glad to see Dean and Sam Winchester. Meeting the angel Castiel and thinking he wasn’t what she’d thought an angel would be. Drinking beer and watching her mother make friends with the angel.

Her mother.

The woman she’d kept seeing was her mother.

Ellen.

The man in the leather jacket was her father.

Bill.

“Oh!”

Her mother beside her, holding her as she’d died.

Memories broke free, eclipsing those lies she’d been given, flooding her head as if a dam had broken. That ache in her head increased even more until with a final blinding burst that took sight from her for several long seconds, Jo Harvelle was whole once more.

She blinked, touching the picture with one finger. “Mom. Dad.”

The first picture was Ellen and Bill Harvelle, holding her in front of the Roadhouse, grinning because they’d pain off the mortgage and now owned it free and clear. Her parents had looked so young there….

She flipped more pages, reliving a past she’d forgotten, crying in joy and sorrow at those good and bad things that were the sum of her.

Her dad had taught her how to ride a bike and her mom to swim. She recalled going to school in her favorite dress at seven and getting in trouble when she’d punched the boy who’d made fun of it. Later, she’d dated that boy and punched him again when he’d copped a feel without even bothering to try to kiss her first.

Her mother had taught her to drive at fourteen and saved money carefully so Jo could go to college. Going off to college and feeling alone and left out, missing the Roadhouse and those regulars that had come through since she’d been small. Returning home to her mom guilt-tripping her about quitting school and moaning about how she’d wanted a normal life for her.

Screw normal, Jo thought. Normal was boring.

A birthday party for her at the Roadhouse, all of the regulars attending. Her mother teaching her to mix drinks.

She found pictures of her and Ash, making cross-eyes at the camera with their tongues stuck out, and then a picture of Sam and Dean that she hadn’t even known Ellen had put in there. When had she done that? It was an older picture, from before the Roadhouse had exploded, Sam and Dean at the bar side by side, giving Ellen a couple of rakish grins.

They all looked so young, even herself.

Everything they’d told her was true.

Jo remembered crushing hard on Dean at first, then her crush fading as reality had set in, time had passed, and a friendship formed. Maybe they hadn’t seen each other often or talked often, but every time they’d met after the initial meeting, Jo had felt like she’d always known him and that no time at all had passed. They’d been able to pick up a conversation where they’d left off, a thing Jo had only been able to do with a couple other people.

She _had_ given up on the dream of Dean Winchester, but she’d never given up on him as a man. He was one out of a million -- and she didn’t even think he realized it.

Turning her head a fraction, she acknowledged Dean’s presence there in the open door of the car. He was standing there waiting, watching her with his lips slightly parted and a look of wonder on his face. It was clear that he’d been there to witness her entire return of memory.

He cleared his throat, indicating the album. “Bobby found that in the car when he had it brought here. It was his idea to park the car here by the end of the driveway and put the book under the seat where he’d first found it.”

She saw him fully for the first time in days. Dean Winchester. Former crush, friend, and man very dear to her heart. Jo loved him. She wasn’t _in love_ with him, because they’d hardly tried that route together, but she did love him. He was special to her and always would be no matter what their relationship ended up being. Reaching out, she placed her hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. He pressed his face to her hand, turning to it, lips grazing her palm. Jo blinked. “I would so bust your balls right now if you hadn’t been completely right in doing this, Dean.” Dropping her hand from his face, she turned the page in the album. The next one was blank and Jo closed it.

“Don’t I know it.” He made a motion with one hand. “Scoot over.”

She did and he joined her in the car, thigh pressed to hers, arms against hers, the warmth of his body washing over her in a welcome bath. “Where’s my mom?”

“Don’t know. Cas is looking for her in heaven.”

“She’s there?”

He shrugged. “He said he found a trace of her there, so…yeah. I guess. We don’t know for sure if she’s still there though.”

“If she’s there, he’ll find her.” She was confident that Castiel would discover her mother’s whereabouts.

“Cas liked Ellen.”

“She liked him, too.” Jo swept her hand along the cover of the album. “It feels wrong to be here without her, to not have her standing here fussing.”

“We’ll do everything we can to find out where she is, Jo. You know that.”

“I do.”

She wet her lips, thinking about the past few days. Dean and Sam had come for her, risking personal injury to retrieve her from being lost. She knew it had been frustrating for them and they had to have worried they wouldn’t be able to get her back in one piece. “You came for me. You could have easily left me like that and you didn’t.”

“You needed me, Jo. You needed _us_.”

Truer words never spoken. She had needed them to fight to save the woman she’d been since she’d been in no condition to fight for herself.

He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, a quick caress. “You fought so hard to save people. How could I not fight just as hard to save _you_?”

There was more there, Jo saw it, felt it; words he wanted to say and wouldn’t. He hadn’t set out with such desperation to save simply another victim of supernatural forces or someone he’d casually cared for. He’d saved her because of who she was and because, on some level, she meant something deep to him, perhaps even something he had yet to admit to himself. She read that in him in a second.

Jo slid closer, turning on the seat, her arms going around him, hugging him as much for his sake as her own. “Thank you for bringing me back.”

“You’re welcome.” There was a hitch in his breaths that she ignored, staying in place against him, not looking up from his chest until he took one long breath and pushed it back out. She gave him time to recover from the emotions he was feeling.

She sat back a fraction. “Dean? I really was dead, wasn’t I?” It was all there in her memories. The Hellhound slicing her side open, bleeding to death in a hardware store in Carthage. Consciousness slipping away before she’d pushed that button. Obviously the plan had given Dean and Sam time because they were both alive now. She, too, was alive though, when she was supposed to be dead.

“You were.”

“How does a person deal with that? How do I deal with getting a second chance at life?” How did she cope knowing she’d gotten a second chance when so many others never would? It hardly seemed fair.

He kept an arm around her, a brace against her back. As many times as he’d died and returned he should be an expert by now. “When you’re tired of living, it’s a trial to come back and have to live, but you…. Jo, grab on to life. Do those things you always wanted to do and never did. Zachariah meant it as a curse, but I think you can turn it into a blessing. For yourself. For everyone you love and who loves you.” He looked at her then, a hint of hope in his eyes.

Leaning her head back, Jo smiled. “Good advice. Shall we go in and let Bobby and Sam know I’m okay?”

Dean slid from the car, and when his hands lingered in helping her from the vehicle, Jo didn’t protest or say a word.

They returned to the house slowly, arms about each other, Jo carrying that photo album and thanking God for her mother’s stubborn refusal to go digital.

Sam and Bobby were waiting, anxiety in their eyes.

She gave them a small smile and nodded. Sam returned the nod, the set of his shoulders relaxing while Bobby fairly collapsed in his own relief. With a last squeeze of Dean’s side with her hand, Jo pulled away from him. “If you don’t mind, Bobby, I’m going to take a long shower and go to bed for a few hours. I didn’t sleep much last night.” Halfway across the room, she paused and turned back, holding out the album, asking her question in a general way. “How did you know seeing the pictures would work?”

It was Bobby who answered. “Honestly? We didn’t, but you and Ellen were all you both had for years. The pictures she chose to keep with you as you traveled had to have major significance, pieces of you both pasted in an album --”

“Kept safe,” Dean said softly. “Photographic evidence and put it with that car you and Ellen used….”

“Unconditional love can make you whole.” Sam’s gaze lifted to her, happiness and sadness mixed together there. “I think it comes down to that, Jo. You and Ellen…. It was unconditional. You loved each other no matter what, fought against each other, with each other, for each other and, in the end, that love stayed right through to the end.”

“Sound like you know something about that.”

Sam nodded. “We’ll tell you all about saving the world…and each other…later. You’ve missed a lot, Jo, but we’ll play catch up once you’re rested.”

With a last fond glance at all of them, Jo headed up the stairs.


	9. Chapter 9

~~~~~~~~~~

If Dean was asked to describe what it had been like to watch the memories return to Jo’s mind, he didn’t think he could verbalize it well enough to convey the sense of complete wonder in what he’d seen. The entire process had taken no more than about thirty seconds or a minute at most. 

He’d approached the car directly behind her, had seen her lean over and pull out that album. As she’d opened it, the soft, hazy light of the rising sun had caught her face and she’d seemed to almost glow. Emotions had crossed her face in rapid succession, punctuated by a muted, startled ‘oh!’. Finally, he’d seen a blossoming of understanding and there before him was the Jo he remembered; the one who’d teased him with an almost kiss before turning him down flat; who’d always had a comeback sometimes as smart-ass as what he’d come up with; who’d always known who he was beneath his skin even when they were still strangers; who’d gone to her death far braver than many others ever would.

He didn’t have to hear her speak or even have her look at him to know it was her and that she was whole. Dean felt it on a gut level. Jo was back.

Joanna Beth Harvelle. Woman. Hunter. Friend. 

And she was going to be a force of nature in his life from here on out. Dean just knew it. That advice he sat beside her and gave? She was going to take it and nothing was going to stop her from achieving whatever she set her mind on. She had that look in her eyes. A quiet determination that reminded him wholly of Ellen.

When she’d gone upstairs, he looked over at Bobby. “You’re a genius, Bobby.”

“Nah. You two just got her all ready for it is all. It was mostly your doing.”

Sam sat down in Bobby’s favorite chair. “You know she’s going to want to know what’s happened since Carthage.”

“And?” Dean crossed his arms.

“And what are we going to tell her? How _much_ are we going to tell her?”

“Everything, Sam.” Dean said it with a firm tone. Jo was one of them. She deserved to know everything that had gone on and especially what had led to the world they now had. She could handle it all and then some. “We tell Jo everything, highs and lows.”

Bobby snorted. “Well of course you’re telling her everything. After how she died? All of it comes out, no matter how uncomfortable the telling.”

“Even me having been soulless?” Sam’s brows rose. “The deal you made with Crowley, Bobby? What about Lisa and Ben, Dean? All of that included?”

Bobby’s nod was stiff and it was apparent he wasn’t looking forward to Jo’s reaction to his deal. As for the Braeden’s…. Dean swallowed uncomfortably. “All of it,” he forced out, knowing this decision was the right one. “If it had a hand in making us who we are today and in shaping the world into what it is, then it gets told. Jo can handle it.”

“She is her mother’s daughter,” Bobby said and walked into the kitchen. “I got work. Get me when she comes back down.”

Dean stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling. If he was going to have to put his relationship with Lisa and what had happened there into words, it was best he think on it awhile. It was going to be painful to talk about.

~~~~~~~~~~

After her shower and nap, Jo ventured downstairs to discover the cop from the day before at the kitchen table talking with Sam. Bobby was nowhere to be seen and Dean was snoring on the couch. Jo paused long enough to gently place a blanket over Dean before going into the kitchen. The woman looked over as Jo entered the room.

“You look considerably more calm today,” she said.

Jo laughed, “You have no idea,” and opened the fridge. She pulled out a loaf of bread, found the peanut butter and jelly and made herself a sandwich.

“So I don’t need to be checking missing person reports for Rhode Island?”

“No, I’ll take care of it in a few days.”

“Won’t your friends there be worried?”

Jo chewed a bite of sandwich and swallowed it. It was a good point. She’d had friends there. Very protective friends. “Okay, I’ll give them a call today and let them know I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Sam slid his chair back and looked at her. “Jo, this is Sheriff Jodie Mills. Jodie,” he gestured at Jo, “Jo Harvelle.”

Jo switched the sandwich to her other hand and stepped forward to shake her hand. “Sorry to eat in front of you. I’m a little hungry. Haven’t eaten much in a few days.”

“I called for pizza delivery,” Sam offered.

Jodie got up from the table. “I’d better be getting back. Nice meeting you, Jo.”

“Likewise.” When Jodie had gone, Jo took her chair. “Dean’s sacked out.”

“He barely slept the past few days, Jo. He wanted to watch over you. With you back, he can rest. I looked over not five minutes after he laid down on the couch and he was out. Hasn’t moved a muscle.” He started to get up. “I’ll wake him.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Let him rest. He deserves it.”

He was awake by the time the pizza arrived and Bobby had come in, their dinner taking on a festive air. All of them ate far too much. It was a relaxed, fun evening that slowly wound down after the leftovers were put away.

Jo curled up on the couch beside Dean. There was room to spread out, but she sat on the cushion beside his, close because she wanted to. “Fill me in on some of what’s gone down.”

He talked for nearly an hour, and in the places he ran out of words, Sam or Bobby took over. They chronicled stopping the Apocalypse and the heavy prices they’d paid. It turned out she wasn’t the only one who’d been dead. Both Castiel and Bobby had died and been brought back. She learned the reason why Bobby was out of the wheelchair and his fight with the Crowley for his soul -- with some aside mentions of Rufus’s involvement that made her smile. Working with Rufus was always an experience one way or another. He had a certain way about him.

“Wait…Crowley was the one who had the Colt, right?” She shifted position, crossing her legs Indian fashion. “The demon who was Lilith’s right hand guy?”

“Yeah.” Bobby nodded. “That’s the one.”

“You made a deal with a demon?”

“Don’t remind me. It was stupid and totally something these two would do,” he pointed at Sam and Dean, who both had the grace to ignore the totally true statement. “But it ended well for me after a lot of expended effort.”

“That’s a rare thing, Bobby. Deals with demons, as a rule, never end well.”

“This one did.”

They talked about Dean’s battle to return Sam’s soul to him and Sam’s resistance to that. She could see that Sam was ashamed by that now, by some of the things he’d done and how he’d behaved without that critical piece of him present. Then, there were the other things, the pieces that had both Sam and Dean speaking in halting sentences, yet soldiering on until all was told. The Campbells, the Braedens, an entire year apart. Dean laid out his part of the tale quietly, hunched over staring at the floor.

Jo watched him closely as he spoke, noting the slight edge of defeat in his words. As the story wound down, Sam beginning to take up his end, Jo realized that Dean thought he’d failed at being a family man. He thought he could never have the joy of being a father or husband and that being a hunter was all that defined him.

Oh, sweetie, she thought. You just didn’t have the right elements there for it to happen for you. Just be patient. It’ll come for you.

Personally, she’d always been of the opinion that hunters could have families. She’d known several through her mom. Granted the lives of the hunters were often cut short, like her dad, but there could be that life if both people wanted it and understood what it entailed. It was a hard life, certainly. Most hunters with families had a home base, like Bobby, and had more of a structured hunting life than Sam and Dean had experienced. Bobby was a good living example of a structured hunting life in her opinion. He had a regular job, a home, and still went out on jobs. They’d do well to study how he balanced it all. 

Some day, she wanted a family of her own. A couple kids, either boy or girl was fine. Since she was alive, Jo saw no reason not to do all those things she’d wanted to, like Dean had told her. Why waste her time putting off life? She had that second chance.

She learned about their cousins; family they’d thought had been wiped out, and the things that had gone on with them.

“I gotta ask, guys…. Please don’t take offense at this.” Jo accepted the beer Bobby brought her and took a long swallow. “Does making demon deals like run in your blood or something?”

Sam let out a groan. “I’m starting to wonder myself. Anyway, Gwen, one of our cousins, took off a few weeks after I got my soul back. Said she couldn’t work with family who knowingly worked with a demon. It pissed her off --”

“Rightly so,” Dean interjected. “You can imagine just how pissed _I_ was by that coming to light. And then being forced to comply sucked big huge donkey balls.”

“We hear from Gwen every so often. Sounds like she’s enjoying the freedom to hunt how she wants.”

“I send her encouraging texts every couple days.”

Translation: he sent her snarky texts to tease her. Jo could imagine the sort of texts he’d send.

“Nice. How’s Castiel these days,” she asked, which opened a whole other long discussion on a civil war in heaven. They told her everything she’d want to know and then some. By the time everything was told, Jo’s brain felt overloaded with information. “Okay. Where are we now as hunters?”

Bobby gestured with his bottle. “Neck deep in the hideous hellspawn crawling over the earth.”

“Business as usual then?”

Her calm question produced silence, then a sputtering of laughter from all three of them and Sam’s tentative, “You’re right, Jo. That is…business as usual.”

She’d said the right thing, tension dissipating and it was late when Jo went up to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo Harvelle was herself again.

Castiel was glad to see that and not only because it’d keep Dean from calling him over and over about it. He’d liked Jo and thought she could be more than a match for Dean if she chose to take him on. 

He wanted to tell her his progress on the search for Ellen. Normally he’d wait until he had something definite, but he supposed Dean’s mandate to share any information he had, even if it was none, applied to Jo as well as to Sam and Bobby. He’d been the subject of a few angry lectures in the past on making contact in reasonable timeframes and reassuring the humans he knew that he really was working on whatever they asked him to. Human interactions were tiring, more so than he’d ever imagined possible. They needed reassuring often and seemed to think if he wasn’t contacting them with useless assurances that he was doing nothing.

Perhaps the war had made him testy.

Cas appeared in the room she’d chosen, not noting she was in a state of semi-undress until she mentioned it. She denied being embarrassed, but he could see the slight flush on her cheeks. Jo brazened it out well, he decided.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello, Jo.”

She looked up with a sharp gasp, clutching her unbuttoned blouse together. “Cas! I’m undressing here! You couldn’t knock?” Turning her back, she did up the buttons and then faced him. “Seriously, knocking is your friend. It’s just good etiquette.”

“My apologies. I didn’t intend to cause you embarrassment.”

“No embarrassment, just…knock next time, okay?”

“Of course. I’ll remember to knock.”

She crossed her arms, well aware the gesture belied her claim of no embarrassment. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you in the diner.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I have news for you. It’s likely not what you wish to hear at present.” 

“Go on.”

“It concerns your mother. I was unable to locate her among the dead. There was a trace of her, but all indication is that she, too, was returned to earth. Knowing Ellen, and how she felt about her family and friends, she would have contacted someone if she was in the condition to do so.”

The news was told bluntly, yet with a gentle tone, as though he truly regretted having to inform her of it. “Meaning Zachariah probably did to her what he did to me. Set her down with false memories and a false life, leaving her like a bomb to go off.” She shrugged. “It’s nothing I wasn’t expecting to hear, Castiel.”

“He left specific instructions on how the two of you were to be utilized if the Apocalypse failed. Zachariah liked having contingency plans and he rightly divined Sam and Dean’s ability to save the day.” He took a step towards her. “Raphael is attempting to finish the Apocalypse.”

“He’s an archangel?”

“Yes. He sent one of his generals to neutralize you.”

“Kill me again?”

“Leave you trapped in that life Zachariah created for you,” he corrected.

“Oh. You found me instead?”

“I was following him, yes. He led me to you.”

“Was it intentional?”

Uncertainty slid across his features in a rush and was gone. “Perhaps.”

“Does that mean he was supposed to neutralize my mother too?”

“Likely. I’ve a couple leads, a couple brothers on that side who may talk. Raphael rules his army through fear and intimidation, but….”

She understood what he was trying to tell her. Raphael’s ranks were beginning to fall apart already, slowly and surely as they would with any dictator. “You may learn a few things from sources closer to him very soon. How’s your war going? Sam and Dean told me.”

“Progress is adequate.” He stared at her, a hint of a smile upon his lips. “You’re very much like your mother, Jo. I’ll contact you when I have information.”

“Do you need --” He was gone before she could finish the question. “Okay. Guess he can find me without my cell number.”

Jo slept well that night, waking late in the morning and having a leisured brunch of pancakes and bacon that Dean cooked. Funny. She’d never thought of him cooking before, but it was a surprisingly sexy scene. Jo decided she liked a man who could cook.

She was antsy to get on the road and wrap up the tail ends of the life that had never truly been hers. After that? Who knew. She’d travel around, checking with people Ellen had known, and maybe, just maybe, Castiel would contact her soon with information. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam and Bobby were getting that car Ellen had driven ready for Jo to take, giving it a good once over for her. Dean waited with her in the house, sitting on the couch talking. She was all fired up to go, their conversation rambling.

“Why would Zachariah do that to us, Dean? Why use us of all people?”

“Who knows why Zachariah did some of those things? Orders? I don’t know. Guess he knew what you two mean to us. All I really know is that we’ve got you back and I’m damn glad for it.”

She drew her legs up, clasping her arms around them. “I thought I’d grown out of the whole ‘damsel in distress’ thing.”

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“You had to save me again, Dean.”

“Yeah, but you and Ellen saved us big time so we’re even.”

Jo leaned her head back. “I’m going to find her. Castiel says --”

“Cas was here?”

“Yeah, for about two minutes. He says she’s not in heaven, that she’s here, on earth somewhere, and if Zachariah did to her what he did to me…..” She blinked, a sheen of tears in her eyes. “She was always there for me. Now it’s my turn. I’m going to find her, help her remember, and then….” Her voice turned hard and Dean saw a steely glint in her eyes. “Then Team Harvelle will be back in the game and those evil sons of bitches better watch out.”

“Jo?” Bobby poked his head in the door. “Your chariot awaits. All checked up, gassed up, and ready. Keys are in it. Sam’s loading your bag and a few provisions.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

He disappeared back outside, the door slamming.

She uncurled and got up, Dean following. “I appreciate this and everything else.”

Dean caught her hand, urging her to stop. “Jo.”

She stepped back to him and looked up at him. “Dean?”

He wanted to hold her, but didn’t quite know how to ask for that, his shoulders lifting in a small, hesitant shrug. “You be careful out there.”

She stared at him a long moment before moving forward and embracing him, the very thing he wanted. It was a full body hug, her face to his neck and hands in his hair. “Ditto, sunshine,” she whispered in his ear. “Call me if you have any leads on mom.”

“Back at you.” He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the pleasant mélange of perfume, shampoo, and soap.

“You know, I don’t really know how to thank you for this.” She drew back, still within the circle of his embrace.

“None necessary. You and Ellen…. You’re family.” He meant it, too. It had been a hard road for him to fully define what family really meant for him and this was the result. Family wasn’t just blood. It was those people who meant the most, the ones a body would sacrifice himself to protect. It was those who understood the whole of a person -- the good, the bad, and the hellateous ugly -- and accepted it all with open arms.

Sam. Bobby. Castiel. Ellen. Jo. They all accepted him, warts and all, and there were no conditions attached either, that unconditional love Sam had talked about.

Dean had had a real family all along and he’d never seen it until the other definition, the ‘normal’ one, fell away. “You’re family,” he repeated.

“A sister?” Her tone was innocent, her gaze mischievous, fingers tickling at the base of his neck.

He snorted. “Good God, no. With the naughty things I’ve dreamed of doing to you?”

Jo smiled. “Good. I like that you dream naughty things. Makes me feel we’re on the same wavelength.” It was the most straight aggressively flirtatious thing she’d ever said to him. He thought he could really enjoy a grown-up, mature Jo. Her hands moved, rested on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “See you around, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“Not if I can help it.” She turned to go, trailing one hand down his arm, but when her hand grazed his and the reality of her leaving hit him, he took his own advice.

He grasped her hand in a firm grip, tugging her back. If she slapped him, then so be it, but he wasn’t letting her go again without a proper kiss.

Dean kissed Jo the way he would have if they’d gotten a chance together: long, slow, and deep, savoring the seconds and how well she fit against him. Her height was right, her body curving to his as though she’d been made to do so, and Jo knew just how to touch him. Her fingers twined with his, her free hand grasping his t-shirt at his waist, responding with an eagerness that thrilled him, her tongue dancing with his without hesitation or even awkwardness. There was heat and promise in that response and when he ended the kiss and released her, her lips curved in a smile.

“I’ll call you, okay?” Her voice was husky.

He watched her sashay from the house, her hips swaying in a most appealing fashion, and slowly smiled himself. “I know you will.” She’d call him and he already knew he’d be calling her. Calling, texting…whatever it took to keep her in his life. Dean wanted Jo there. He wanted that force of nature sweeping over him, bringing a fresh newness that brushed all of the old hurts away.

Taking out his phone, he opened up his contact list. Jo was back and it was time to finally purge those ghosts of his past that he’d carried around with him. He went through the names, deleting first those who’d died. Then, he found Lisa’s name. Dean didn’t waver, deleting her number and severing the invisible tie that had kept him bound. It was strange to suddenly feel lighter by that action and ready to move forward. Lisa was fully in the past now. She’d refused to accept an integral part of him -- Sam -- and he was ready to set that failed relationship aside because here before him now was the potential for much more: a woman who accepted him completely and understood all of who and what he was, had been, and probably would ever be.

He closed his fist around the phone, almost giddy to realize he was excited to begin pursuing Jo as more than the friend she’d been. There inside him was more exhilaration than he’d felt for any woman. While he knew Jo, he looked forward to learning about the woman she was today and the woman she’d be tomorrow.

Sam came inside. “Feels anticlimactic with her gone already. I thought she’d stay a few days and get her bearings.”

“She’s anxious to find Ellen.” Slipping his phone into his pocket, he looked around the room. It seemed a lot less brighter without Jo there, the colors muted. “Well, what do you want to do now? Continue our vacation or look for a case or two?”

He slid his hands into his pockets. “Actually…. Talking with Jo’s got me wanting to be back out there. We could pick a direction, see what hits our path along the way.”

Actually, Sam took the words right out of his mouth. “I here you, Sammy. Let’s hit the road.”

They were gone within the hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hunting on her own was vastly different than anything Gwen Campbell had ever experienced. Of course she knew all of the various steps to a hunt and had performed each at one time or another, but it had always been with a team. Never on her own. She found being on her own to be freeing and frustrating at the same time. Freeing in that she could choose the where, when, how, and take as much time as she liked in the research area. Not to mention she could even sightsee if she wanted.

But for a woman used to company, it was frustrating. There was no one to share her ‘a-ha’ moments with or bitch to when things went south. Sam and Dean didn’t count as they weren’t actually there with her, though Dean’s smart-ass texts were like a piece of home to her -- not that she’d tell _him_ that. And Sam was always good to confer with even with his returned soul adding emotion. She’d had to get to know him all over again because soul Sam differed from soulless Sam.

They’d understood her disgust at the situation and supported her decision to leave and strike out on her own. They’d been the only ones, too. How was that for a loving family? The ones she’d known the least amount of time were the ones who, in that crucial moment, had been the most like family, though she still wasn’t sure exactly how they were related. Samuel had said they were, and she’d believed him.

Sometimes, she wondered why they were so supportive of her decision, but that wondering never lasted long. If either had thought she couldn’t do this job alone, they would have said something and tried to discourage her.

Her phone dinged and she took it out. Speak of the devil. It was a text from Dean.

‘Found Bigfoot yet, Supergirl?’ 

With a shake of her head, she replied, ‘Ages ago. He said you were the best night of his life. And if I’m Supergirl, who are you?’

‘I’m Batman.’

She laughed softly to herself and waited for more, but he appeared to be done for the moment. Gwen put the phone away, feeling a twinge of lonliness.

She hated admitting to being lonely and when she came across another female hunter working alone like she was, she set herself to the task of tracking her and studying her. It was an attempt to find a compatible hunting partner without giving herself away immediately. She even thought she was doing rather well at being inconspicuous until she turned from closing the trunk of her car to find a gun pointed at her.

“Who are you and why are you following me? Start talking.” The woman stood with calm ease, curious but not alarmed. Gwen had the feeling that if she’d perceived Gwen as a threat, she’d already be dealt with.

She held her hands out at her sides. “I’m Gwen. I’m a hunter, like you are.”

“And you’re following me, why?”

“It’s not often I see other women hunters. We’re something of a rarity in this field.”

“You were curious.” The gun lowered a fraction.

“You could say that. I’m looking for another hunter to maybe partner up with on occasion, have friendly exchanges of information, maybe keep a running tally of jobs completed.”

“You think I might make a good partner?”

“Don’t know yet,” she admitted slowly. “You seem like you know what you’re doing, but I’ve met good hunters before that made dumb mistakes and ended up on the wrong side.”

The woman laughed and lowered the gun. “At one time or another, any hunter will inevitably make a dumb mistake. With luck, it won’t be one that’ll kill you.” She put the gun away and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Gwen. I’m Ellen.”


	10. Chapter 10

~~~~~~~~~~

There were certain areas of the country that Ellen Devlin was drawn to -- South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado -- and she had to conclude that those places had a part in the past she couldn’t remember. She kept pretty much to those areas, hoping something might trigger a return of anything prior to 2010.

She found enough hunting jobs to keep her in the game, mostly piddling things like mild ghost cases. The activities made her feel peaceful in a way, which was strange considering the nature of what she was doing.

Ellen minded her own business and expected others to do the same. Occasionally, she got hit on, men who called her ‘darlin’, ‘honey’, and ‘baby’. None of them appealed to her, though several were rather attractive. For the most part, her life was a solitary one. It wasn’t that Ellen was lonely exactly, for she was comfortable with her own company and knew somehow that she always had been. There was simply an underlying sense that she needed a hunting partner. Not for the physical help really. Ellen knew the job and could do what was required. Rather she needed the occasional fresh pair of eyes on information and on task. Younger eyes to be specific, and the sort who liked computers and didn’t become frustrated with new technology.

A part of her suspected she’d had such a hunting partner before 2009 and the reason she wasn’t remembering her past was because it was too painful to do so. She’d done some research on amnesia, enough to know her case was a weird one even by doctor’s standards. Strange how she couldn’t remember seeing any doctors or being in a hospital. She supposed it was possible that those missing portions of 2009-2010 explained that.

When she discovered the young woman following her, it both amused her and set her mind to furious circles of thought. The woman -- Gwen -- was young enough to spark a protective urge in her. Ellen quickly found herself wanting to take her under her wing, be the hunting partner Gwen proposed.

They sat at a back booth in the nearest bar, moving straight to the meat of the matter.

“You want to hunt with me, I guess we can try it.” Ellen tapped her beer bottle on the table a few times, then pointed the mouth at Gwen. “But there’s a few things you should know first. My long-term memory from 2009 back is shot. Personal details are gone. Hell, I’m not even sure if Devlin is my real last name or an alias. I know I had a family, know that they’re dead, but the specifics aren’t there. Don’t know if it was hellspawn that got ‘em or natural things. 2010 is spotty for me as well. I’ve got gaping holes I can’t explain.”

Gwen’s expression didn’t change and Ellen suppressed a grudging smile. This young woman had mettle, reminding her of someone. Too bad Ellen couldn’t connect the dots on who that someone was. For all she knew, Gwen could be reminding her of herself at that age.

“What I do know is that I’m a hunter. That’s all there. Those details do come out. It’s my job, my life, though I don’t think it always was. Don’t know for sure. So.” She crossed her arms on the edge of the table. “Tell me all about yourself, Gwen. Training, what got you into the life to begin with.”

She took a French fry from the nearly empty plate in front of her and ate it before saying, “I grew up in it. Had a hand in all aspects of hunting from the research to putting the salt in rounds to actively going out. It was a family operation.”

“Why’d you leave? Too restrictive?” It was a leading question and obvious in that respect.

Her laugh was rough and quick. “Sometimes. It gets trying getting told to bring up the rear all the time because the patriarch wants to protect you from getting hurt. No, that was irksome, but it wasn’t why I left.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s a long story that boils down to a deal made that ended up with hunters being forced to work for a demon. A _demon_ , Ellen,” her lips twisted in a disgusted grimace. “That goes against everything I was ever taught and…I finally left. Only two of my family -- distant cousins -- supported me in that. The only question they asked is why I stayed as long as I did. The rest….” She shrugged, the gesture not nearly as nonchalant as she tried to make it appear. “They can go hang themselves and if I see a couple of them ever again….” That last sentence trailed off with a lift of her brows and a hard gleam in her eyes. Something had happened there that was far more than what Gwen was telling. The two she spoke of had hurt her personally.

Ellen was struck again by that feeling of familiarity. “You’re used to working in a team?”

“I am.”

“Can you take orders?”

“I said I got told to bring up the rear all the time.”

“Yeah, and just because you were told doesn’t mean you took those orders, does it?”

Gwen shoved the now empty plate away. “Look, I can take orders _and_ give them --”

“Good, then we can work together. You’ll need to take orders sometimes, Gwen, but we’ll do this as even as possible. Divvy up the work. See how it works out. If we can’t work together, we go our separate ways. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They began that sharing of information right then, outlining jobs they’d both heard of and planning on how to go about hunts together. Ellen had a continued sense of dejá -vu, knowing she’d had a similar conversation before, yet not having any idea when or with who, or if she’d been on the same side of it she was now.

As the weeks passed, she and Gwen slid into a genuine partnership, moving around in what would appear an erratic path if anyone was following them. Ellen didn’t think there was anyone following them, but better safe than sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo headed out on her own far quicker than she knew any of them expected of her. It wasn’t a case of wanting to leave them. Not at all. She would have loved to stay there at Bobby’s and pass a few days and even weeks with Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Especially with Dean. However, her mother needed her. No matter what condition she was in, Ellen needed Jo. 

She was anxious to begin searching for her mother even though she had no idea even where to really begin. The list of people her mother had known was a long one, but Jo only remembered a few for sure. There were some high school friends of Ellen’s scattered across the country and an estranged aunt in Colorado. Jo made a mental list as she drove, pushing herself to reach her apartment. It was probably best to take her search in sections. She’d start with people in Rhode Island and work her way west, back towards Bobby’s house, wait for Castiel to call her, and pick up jobs along the way. With luck, someone somewhere had seen Ellen.

Her apartment smelled a little musty from being locked up and had that depressing look of a house too long empty. The colors seemed shades of gray and Jo immediately hated the tiny apartment. She remembered Zachariah had done the most damage right in that living room after berating her for not following his script for her. He’d had her writhing on the floor in agony…. Gathering the belongings she wanted, Jo found a motel, feeling better emotionally when away from the apartment. 

She cleaned out her bank account, pleased that she’d remembered adequately the amount of funds she’d had available. Out of curiosity, she went online to the bank she and her mom had used and was surprised to discover the user names and password still worked. The account Ellen had used for their supplies and living expenses as they’d traveled was all still there, as was Jo’s own account. They were minus fees, of course, for having not been used often, and had once a month tiny withdrawals of no more than a few dollars. The amounts were just enough to keep the accounts active and Jo smiled to herself.

Ellen had given Bobby the information in case something happened to them, telling him they wanted him to use the money and pass it on however he thought best. Bobby hadn’t used it, not really. He’d kept the accounts active and that was all. Why? Had some part of him hoped they’d be back even after he knew they were dead?

Jo decided to let Bobby keep his reasons to himself, whether it was hope or a hesitance to plunder their accounts for his own use. An honorable guy, that Bobby….

The only trouble Jo had in Rhode Island was trying to give some sort of explanation to those nice people she’d worked with. She ended up giving them a whopper story about identical twins that sounded fantastical. Jo wasn’t sure why she bothered save the fact that they’d been nice to her and tried to protect her. These people in this little town had cared. They’d taken in a broken woman and tried to heal her and help her become whole. 

The bright spot in the days that followed was Dean. He texted her regularly, little questions and comments that lifted her spirits. He was far better at texting than he’d ever been at calling. Some mornings she’d wake and find upwards of ten texts in a row from him, all waiting there for her to reply to. Some were serious, but for the most part, they were silly things and she replied in kind. 

Three weeks after leaving Bobby’s, Jo laid down on her stomach on the motel bed and called Dean.

“So here I am, in Indiana, cleaning up after a particularly active poltergeist, and I started wondering what you and Sam were up to. That animated ventriloquist dummy in Maryland pan out?”

He laughed. Jo heard the clink of dishes in the background. “Sure did. You know, it turns out Sam finds them just as creepy as clowns.”

“They _are_ just as creepy as clowns. Was it a spell animated it?”

“Nope.”

“Was it cursed?”

“Weirder. It was possessed.”

“Possessed? You’re pulling my leg. Inanimate objects don’t become possessed.” She rolled onto her back.

“They do when someone gets hold of one of those heavenly weapons and uses it to channel a fleeing demon into it. Castiel was beyond pissed.”

“What weapon was it?”

“I don’t know. Cas started muttering in Enochian and tore out of there as soon as he’d figured out what was causing it.” He laughed again. By his tone, it sounded like he’d had a few drinks with dinner. “You should have seen us, Jo, with a dummy tied to a chair doing an exorcism on it while it screamed obscenities at us.”

She _could_ picture it and grinned. “How long did it take you to get it tied to the chair?”

“Sam wrestled it. Man, Jo, it was like watching Child’s Play. The thing even _resembled_ Chucky. I’ll never be able to watch that movie again. Hell, even Bride of Chucky is tainted now and Jennifer Tilly’s rack _made_ that movie. Hold on.” She heard him mumble something to someone and then he was back. “I had visions of someone trying to put together a doll and dummy army by channeling demons into them. Can you imagine how creepy it’d be to see these tiny inanimate objects alive and coming at you with all their tiny little knives and things?”

They talked for nearly an hour, Jo describing her own hunting trials and mentioning that she’d heard nothing from Castiel as yet aside from the initial talk they’d had.

“He’s having a tough time,” Dean told her. “Those freakin’ angels can’t seem to make up their minds whose side they’re on. He’ll have allies one day that turn on him the next, though he did admit when he was here about the dummy that he’s stumbled on some strangely easy victories recently.”

“How so?”

“Just battles he thought were hopeless suddenly turning in his favor, things like that. He says someone has to be helping him, only he can’t figure out who it is. He thought it was one angel only he turned up dead. Then he thought it was another, only that one betrayed him. Like I said, freakin’ angels can’t decide which side they’re on.”

It was sad, in her opinion. Poor Castiel, torn between friends and family. She hoped that someday he’d have an end to that war and would finally be able to rest.

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t enough to restart the Apocalypse. Raphael had to run heaven himself in the meantime -- with an iron fist if necessary. Whatever he wanted was what was mandated and he had no hesitation in murdering his own soldiers if they hesitated in following his orders. He killed angels and humans both, using humans as shields and diversions.

At first, Raphael’s goal had seemed worthy. Restart the Apocalypse, bring on Paradise. Rest for all of them. Wasn’t Paradise what they’d all dreamed of anyway? The glory, the peace…. Yet as the war dragged on, Raphael’s orders had become more and more bloodthirsty, even irrational and contradictory. He didn’t care about his own soldiers, which saddened Uzziel. To Raphael, even his own brothers and sisters were simply pawns to be thrown away at will. Uzziel didn’t care for this spilling of blood that was necessary and even less for that which was unnecessary. 

In fact, the more he learned about Castiel’s viewpoint, the more he realized he had in common with him. Castiel wanted peace and for all angels to get along and learn to love humanity because God loved them. Castiel hated this fight. Uzziel hated this fight and while he wasn’t sure he could love humans, he too wanted peace at last. They’d been warring for so long now, for one reason or another, that he’d like very much to see an end. The desire to an end to the fighting was why he’d stepped up to join Raphael to begin with, yet Raphael was no longer making sense. He’d ceased to be logical. 

His war had become personal, no longer a war just to gain Paradise, but a war against Castiel and against the obvious favor God had shown him. God had resurrected Castiel not once but twice and He was the only one who could have brought an angel back from that nothingness of death. He’d chosen _Castiel_ of all angels, to have His favor…. Not Michael, Gabriel, or Raphael, but a lower level angel that had barely been more than a foot soldier. Raphael was jealous and was letting that color this war. He was determined to destroy Castiel and anyone who dared to follow him. He didn’t like being passed over in favor for a foot soldier any more than he’d liked the favor turned upon the humans. His jealousy drove him.

Their Father wasn’t completely absent or disinterested. Uzziel could see that and it made him uneasy to realize it. Was their Father watching them all? Noting who was disobeying and who was trying to follow those last orders He’d issued long ago? He’d shown favor to Castiel, so did that mean Castiel was in the right?

Uzziel had a terrible suspicion that it did and that they were all going to be eventually judged by their current actions.

He suppressed a sigh, careful to keep his thoughts covered over so others wouldn’t glean his intentions.

Raphael had gone mad in his jealousy. It was the only explanation that explained the orders he continued to issue.

So what did any general do when he realized his supremely powerful commander had lost his mind and the only eventual outcome would be the destruction of every one and every thing?

He set about protecting those around him from the madness in any way he could, even if it meant giving ground to the supposed enemy.

Uzziel, first general to Raphael and one of the most trusted in that one’s entourage, began to feed Castiel all he’d need to bring an end to this war. He leaked battle plans and locations of key players and had even sent Laurel to him, knowing very well what the outcome of that would be. He’d needed to get rid of her and, by sending her to ‘deal’ with Castiel, he hadn’t needed to get his hands dirty. He could stay in the shadows a bit longer. It’d be best if he wasn’t revealed until the very last possible moment. He planned to wait until, hopefully, he was in a position to kill Raphael and end it all. Or until Castiel was in that position and he could aid him in it. One of the two. Whichever it was, Uzziel intended to make sure Raphael was dead in the near future. 

The more Raphael’s madness displayed itself, the harder Uzziel worked, walking a tightrope of deceit. Paradise, no matter how glorious and enticing, simply wasn’t worth the price they were all going to pay for it in the end.

In the meantime, he began to gather to him those he could trust; who were as disillusioned and disgruntled by Raphael’s leadership as he was. He gathered a core of soldiers and sought to prepare for the turning of the tide.

Uzziel slipped away, giving all appearance of going about Raphael’s orders while doing everything he could to covertly aid Castiel. Like he had with the two women. Uzziel had had to practically tap-dance right in front of Castiel to get him to follow him. Castiel could be as single-minded as Raphael, both a good and bad thing. He’d been so focused on whatever task he’d been about that he’d nearly missed the golden opportunity Uzziel had repeatedly dangled in front of him. 

It wasn’t that Castiel was slow mentally. Hardly. He was a very smart angel of above average intelligence. He was simply that focused. Uzziel thought that was one reason why it had been Castiel to reach Dean Winchester first in hell. He’d been told it was his assignment and he’d set about it with an enviable single-mindedness, not resting until he’d reached him. He’d pushed on despite the battle raging around him and despite all the odds against him, looking solely on that objective.

Uzziel had led Castiel to Jo Harvelle, knitted together a sliver of her mind and not closed off the memory center like he was supposed to. It was a no-brainer that Castiel would make sure Jo got to the Winchesters and that they’d fight to make her regain her memories. Everyone knew what family and friends meant to them.

As for Ellen…. He _had_ fixed the ugly memories Zachariah had implanted like he was supposed to. She’d been programmed to think the Winchester brothers had kidnapped, raped and murdered Jo, then left her body for Ellen to find. Uzziel had removed that, but left the barrier to her real memories in place. It couldn’t be too obvious that he hadn’t finished the job. It had to look like he’d followed orders with her since he’d led Castiel to Jo. He’d made certain her memories of hunting were always there in the background. Not free to be accessed exactly, but rather there beneath her consciousness, giving her instinctual reactions. She knew she’d hunted and that it had been part of her. Then, he shopped around for the best place to put her, deciding it was a stroke of genius to engineer a meeting between her and the Campbell woman. She’d taken the bait of a job and gone merrily on her way to it, crossing Gwen’s path and ensuring that she, too, would eventually be back with not only her daughter, but those she’d considered family.

He was pleased by how well he’d planned that.

The women weren’t of any importance in the grand scheme of things, but they were important to Sam and Dean Winchester. Uzziel normally had no respect for humans, but he could respect how well those two had turned all of the angels on their asses and how well they’d displayed what free will could do. He could respect that Sam and Dean Winchester had played the Apocalypse with their own rules and won in the end. Above all, he could respect what they’d shown about family.

Like Castiel, Uzziel also wished angels could behave like Sam and Dean had towards family. The familial bond was a powerful one and it had been a very long time since Uzziel had seen it at work in the angelic realm.

He saw nothing wrong with letting them have some family back. It would have happened eventually anyway. Jo Harvelle had already been showing signs of breaking through Zachariah’s conditioning when Uzziel had seen her and Ellen had been on her way as well. He’d simply speeded up the process by a couple years. So really, he didn’t count that side task as insurrection against Raphael’s orders at all.

Uzziel slipped across the night sky, placing another trail for Castiel to find. This one would give him more ground and, if played right, the turning would genuinely begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

The more Ellen learned about Gwen’s family, the more she thought there was something off about it all. A formerly unknown patriarch suddenly showing up and taking over? Gwen’s own upbringing had the appearance to her of orphans taken in and trained from a young age. It’d be a way for semi-retired hunters to both care for other hunter’s children that had been orphaned and ensure the trade continued.

If that was the case, it meant there was a far more organized effort than she’d thought. Perhaps she herself had been a part of it even. She wondered if any of that family Gwen had mentioned would recognize her. It’d be nice to hear something of her forgotten past. 

Still, it was all speculation. Gwen wasn’t awfully forthcoming on the details, seeming to want to forget her family altogether -- save those two distant cousins. One of them texted her at all hours of the day or night and she sometimes had long conversations with the other one.

“Tell me about them,” she asked in a lull during a stakeout.

“Not much to tell.”

Ellen waited, sipping at a cup of coffee. Usually she didn’t drink coffee at night, as it kept her awake all hours, but for a stakeout it was essential.

Gwen’s quiet had a weighted sense to it, as though she was trying to decide how much to mention. Finally, she shifted in the seat and spoke. “I met Sam first. Sam Winchester, like the gun.”

The name was familiar, though Ellen couldn’t say where she’d heard it before. An image formed in her head, hazy and indistinct, of a tall young man with shaggy hair.

“He was calm and cool. Never seemed to get ruffled by anything. I later learned there was a reason for that. He had a …soul…problem. Once that was fixed, I had to get to know him all over again and discovered he was very different than what I’d thought. He’s a good guy to chat with now. I’ve told him more about how I feel about my branch of the family than I’ve ever told anyone and he always listens. He never tries to get me to go back. Says it’s okay to find my own way.”

She already knew from asking that there wasn’t anyone left that Gwen had felt close to in regards to her family. They’d all died or betrayed her -- except the two cousins. Gwen was calling them her family now. “What about the other one?”

Gwen laughed. “Dean. Dean Winchester.”

That name produced another hazy picture in her head, almost like a ghost there, barely visible. Another tall young man, older than the first one.

“He’s different from Sam. I wasn’t sure I liked him at first, but he grows on you, kind of like mold. When I met him he was trying to keep a thing going with a civilian. You can imagine how well that turned out.” She stretched her legs out. “He’s one of those guys that when he considers you family, he goes all out for you, you know? He’ll have your back and somehow know when it’s okay not to, even if you think he should. When I left, he sent me the snarkiest text…. Calls me ‘Supergirl’, but he doesn’t mean it in a mean way. He’s just…encouraging me in his own way. It helps.”

Ellen could understand that. Having a tie to someone who supported you could make a world of difference.

“I know they’re both there if I need them.”

“Having people is important. Even hunters need people.”

This partnership had helped Ellen’s own outlook in recent days. She found she was sleeping better and felt very much like they were inching towards the edge of something life changing. Ellen could feel it coming and wasn’t sure whether to batten down the hatches or let whatever it was sweep them both away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Texting was in no way a substitute for real contact, a thing Dean reflected on often. While he had no trouble flirting up a storm with the willing women around him, he found himself wondering how Jo would react. He could almost hear her voice in his ear from time to time, telling him this one wasn’t busty enough for him or that one had too many obvious miles on her. He could picture that scene with ease.

Nearly two months after they’d parted ways, he opened up their motel room door to find her standing there, looking innocent, her hair loose about her shoulders. Snowflakes dotted her hair, snow swirling behind her. He noticed a car parked far too close to the Impala on the passenger side and to another car’s driver’s side. He looked at it a beat, then at her. “If you scratched my car --”

“Relax. I’d never scratch her, Dean. I know how much she means to you.”

“How many times did you have to try parking to get it that close without scratching my car?”

“Just the once. I have a gift. I’ve been cussed out for that gift many a time, too.”

“How did you get out?” There barely looked room on either side, though she was sort of little….

“Climbed out the passenger side,” she replied with a shrug. “Window doesn’t close.”

“Quite a car you chose. Where’s the other one?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. Bobby’s repairing the other one for me and I thought why not borrow one of his cars and come see you two? You going to invite me in?”

“What happened?” He stepped aside and opened the door wider. Jo hefted her bag and came inside. He caught a whiff of perfume as she passed, a delicate floral scent.

“Brakes were shot. Found that out on a mountain road. Not fun. I think the words ‘Oh God, oh God, I’m going to die again’ may have even been uttered, though I’m not entirely certain because it’s all sort of a blur.” She dropped her bag on the end of one bed and turned, hands resting on her hips. “You’re looking well.”

Dean closed the door and walked over to her. His heart had about skipped a beat there for a second, but he concluded she was joking about the brakes. “So are you.”

“Flatterer.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, gave the room an exaggerated once over, including a bent over peering into the bathroom, then stood upright again and grinned. “So…. Where’s Sam?”

“On a hot date. Left about five minutes ago, which,” he waggled a finger at her, “I suspect you know very well.”

Her grin widened and Jo took a step closer, then another, until she was in that personal space area he usually yelled at Castiel for invading. Funny, he didn’t mind Jo doing it. “You got me, Winchester. I’ve been sitting out there waiting for one of you to leave your room so I knew which one you were in and could surprise you. Sam so obligingly came out, leaving you all alone and I thought you might get lonely in here all by yourself.” Her hands raised, grasping his biceps, sliding up to his shoulders. “Could you use some company, Dean?” There was a playful light in her eyes.

He slid his arms around her, drawing her closer. “I think you read my mind.” He was lowering his head to kiss her, his lips actually touching hers, when the door burst open.

“Gun, gun, gun!” Sam dove for one bag, ripped it open, and turned, firing as a large, rather hairy creature appeared in the door. He emptied the clip into it even as he fell onto the floor. The creature flew backwards, landing on the hood and windshield of Jo’s car. Glass crunched.

In the silence following the shots, all that could be heard were Sam’s harsh breaths and the traffic out on the highway. Jo drew away. She stared at the creature and car, her mouth opening. “Oh…. Oh…. Bobby’s gonna be _so_ pissed!”

“Um…Sam?” Dean pointed at the creature and took a few steps towards the open door.

The creature became a naked man.

“I found that Skinwalker,” Sam gasped, laying back and letting out a long whooshing breath. “Or rather, he found me.” After a moment, he raised his head. “Hey, Jo. You look good.”

She gave a weak laugh and smile, “Thanks,” and gestured at the car again. “I promised him it’d come back in one piece. One piece, Sam! Now what the hell am I supposed to tell him?”

Dean almost smiled. A civilian would be freaking out right now. But Jo? She focused on the damn car. He put his arm around her and sighed. It was refreshing really.

“What,” she snapped, looking up t him.

“Just…glad you’re here is all.”

Jo rolled her eyes and pointed at the car with both hands. “It’s undriveable, guys. There’s no freakin’ way it’ll even start. Especially with the shape shifter still on the hood. Are you moving him, Sam? Because I’m not touching him.”

“We’ll drive you back to Bobby’s,” Sam offered.

“You bet your sweet ass you will. _And_ you’ll explain to him that this was so not my fault this time.”

“This time?”

“I may have had a few incidents in the past with cars he’s loaned me.”

Dean released Jo, closed the motel room door, and listened to the sounds of them bickering about the car while he packed up his and Sam’s belongings. If they were lucky, they could ditch the scene before anyone showed up to investigate. He packed the car, throwing Jo’s bag in as well, whistling softly to himself and keeping an eye out for people.

“Okay, time to go. Everyone in the car.”

“Shotgun,” Jo called in a sing-song voice, opening the driver’s door and crawling across the seat.

Sam got in the back and within minutes, they were on the road, heading back to Bobby’s.


	11. Chapter 11

Weariness encased Castiel, a thing he wore like the clothing on his body. Just once, he’d like to have an ally that remained one for more than a moment or two. He was tired, plain and simple, more so than he’d ever been, running himself ragged in an attempt to continue gaining any sort of ground against Raphael. It seemed that for every step forward in the war, he ended up two back. Dean’s malaise a couple years earlier now made perfect sense. Castiel was there now himself, nearly to the point of not caring any longer what happened. Stay, go, live, die, fall. What did it all matter? It was going to be an eternal struggle anyway and Raphael held all of the cards. 

Maybe it’d be best if he got out, faked his own death like Balthazar and went into Witness Protection like Gabriel had. He could change his name, pretend to be someone else. Gabriel had managed very well at that and so had Balthazar.

Castiel sighed.

He was having trouble concentrating and facing each coming hour was a chore. Uncertain what to do or where to go, he moved towards one place he knew he should go. It had been a long while since he’d updated Jo on his search for Ellen. The last update had been right after she’d returned to herself. While he’d seen both Sam and Dean since then, he’d been reluctant to tell Jo his lack of progress and see the disappointment on her face. There was shamefully no progress at all on the search, his attention focused elsewhere. Castiel wondered if Jo would understand. It’d be nice if she did. Too often those humans he knew were too caught up in their own problems to consider his. However, she’d asked once on the progress of the war. Perhaps she would show him concern again?

He found Jo and sat at the chair by the table, waiting for her to wake. It wouldn’t be long. Sitting still, he could feel the consciousness flooding her body in degrees. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Her room was quiet. Peaceful even in the early morning hour. Slowly, his shoulders slumped as tension eased in the warm calm of Jo’s presence.

When was the last time he’d had the time to sit still anywhere? Castiel reflected upon that. It had been so very long. His days of calming himself while sitting in a park somewhere were long gone. He hadn’t done that in months and missed those grounding moments reflecting on God’s creations.

He heard a gasp and then Jo’s voice, husky with the remnant of sleep.

“Castiel? Hi. What…um…what are you doing here?”

Cas heard the rustling of the bedcovers and opened his eyes. Her hair was a wild tangle about her head and shoulders. He made a mental note that Dean would like seeing her this way. She was very pretty having just woken from sleep. Were all women that way? “I came to inform you…. I regret that I’ve not had time to search for Ellen. The battles above have escalated and I’ve been…occupied there.”

She got out of bed and padded over on sock feet. Her pajamas were big on her, making her appear fragile. “You look tired.” One hand stretched out as though to touch his face and drew back before nearing his skin. She moved to his left, pouring water in the coffee maker set up on the low dresser.

“Angels don’t become tired,” he said automatically, though it wasn’t technically true. They didn’t sleep, but they could grow weary, as he’d done these past long months of war. They could experience moments of mental fatigue.

“Mmm.” Jo’s lips pursed, a sliver of doubt in her eyes.

He smelled the nutty aroma of coffee brewing and took a slow deep breath through his nose. It was as familiar to him as the scent of beer in a glass. Comforting. Strange that such a human thing, a scent, and a beverage at that, could soothe him. “We don’t become tired,” Cas repeated, a little slower than he’d said it the first time.

Her glance returned to him briefly. “Sure. You just look like you are.”

“I’m not tired.” It was truth. The word ‘tired’ didn’t begin to cover the utter bone weariness of his entire being.

Jo smothered a yawn with one hand. “Exhausted, then.” She poured the coffee into two Styrofoam cups and came to the table, holding one out. “Here.”

Castiel stared up at her, then at the cup, and back up at her. She was giving him a cup of coffee? Why?

“Take it. Drink it. Catch your breath. Rest, you know, even though you don’t _need_ rest.”

“I can’t rest, Jo.”

“You just did for however how long you’ve been sitting here. Will another few minutes mean an end to everything?”

“Possibly.” He was trying not to think of just how much ground he could be losing by being here for even a minute.

“Oh.” She looked surprised, her brows raising as she set the cup she’d offered him down on the table and sat in the second chair across from him. Her hands wrapped about her own cup a moment before she placed it, too, on the table and got back up. “Well…. I’ll put the lid on your cup and you can take it with you.”

He almost smiled at her sleepy insistence that he take his coffee with him. Castiel opened his mouth to tell her he couldn’t take the coffee where he was going, and decided against it. She was trying to do a nice thing and it bolstered his mood a fraction. “Thank you.” Did she do this with Dean; offer him some measure of comfort in such manner?

Jo snapped the lid in place. “There you go.” She tapped her fingers on the lid. “I’m sorry, did you want sugar or something in it? I should have asked --”

“Black is fine. Thank you, Jo.”

She smiled. “Then you’re all set.”

He didn’t move, reluctant to leave the calm of her presence. Her next words made him want to stay even more. To have someone express concern over him…. While he knew Dean, Sam, and Bobby cared, they weren’t particularly demonstrative about their affection for him. Occasionally, they’d say what they felt and ask about him, but not often. Jo expressed her concern and he was grateful for it. It made him feel…better.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waking to find another person in her room wasn’t a thing Jo was used to, but since she’d locked up tighter than tight, her sleep-fuddled brain only took a second to register that presence as Castiel. She was suddenly glad she was wearing the new fleece pajamas she’d bought when the temperature had taken a nosedive into the single digits. She didn’t feel as weird about him there as she would while wearing her other, less covering nightwear.

Both the time passing and the angelic war weren’t being kind to Castiel. Not only could Jo see it in the way he held himself in that chair, she could feel it in the air. His posture was less than correct, the expression in his eyes that of one who’s dangling by a thread that’s steadily breaking. Exhaustion clung to him and Jo felt tired just looking at him.

Not only was he tired, he was dispirited. It must be demanding being the only steady angel holding back Raphael’s progress. From the snippets Dean and Sam told her, it was no wonder Castiel was wearing down. He’d been running at full tilt for well over a single year now in earth time. What was that in angelic time? Jo didn’t know if there was a time difference or not. The only wonder was that his breakdown hadn’t come sooner.

How did one comfort a disheartened angel? Under normal conditions, she’d offer a hug or hold his hand for awhile, but these were hardly normal conditions. Castiel was no longer fallen and learning comfort in human actions. He wasn’t as approachable as he’d been while fallen, and considering how barely approachable he’d been then…. It seemed obvious to her that he was more than human; something to be respected. There _was_ a difference between him now and how he’d been before Carthage. Dean and Sam may treat him like they did anyone else, but Jo wasn’t quite there yet, nor did she think she would be, not with him in full-on angel mode.

Hugging was out of the question, as was holding his hand. Maybe a pat on his back or shoulder would be okay? She eyed him for a quick second. Then again, maybe not. 

So Jo did the only thing she knew to do. She made him coffee since she didn’t have any alcohol to mix a drink. He gave her a confused and curious stare when she handed him the cup, but since he wasn’t physically approachable, it would have to do. One act of thoughtful kindness.

He mentioned that staying could actually be an end to everything, which, when she thought about it, did make sense. As fast as he moved, she should have figured the other angels moved just as fast. The pace of life in the heavenly realm must make rush hour traffic on earth look slow as molasses or even slower. Jo added a lid to his cup, thinking that if he couldn’t take the time to drink it here, at least he could have it with him and maybe it’d help keep him warm out in the cold. Though…did heaven have temperatures like earth? Did he even feel the cold outside? There was so much she was realizing she didn’t know about him.

“Do you want to talk about it,” she blurted out, handing the cup back to him and sitting down.

Castiel wrapped the fingers of both hands about the cup, leaned his head back, then slowly shook it.

“Okay.” Jo used the sort of gentle tone she normally reserved for children. For a fierce angel of the Lord, he was giving off a very childlike vulnerable air at present. “I’ll listen if you ever do want to talk about it.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” She’d heard many people’s troubles while bartending. Was it so far out to listen to an angel’s troubles as well? “Sometimes talking can help us feel better.”

He blinked, brow furrowing. “You wish to listen to me?”

“Only if you want, Castiel. Doesn’t everyone, even an angel, need someone to talk to sometimes?”

“Why do you not call me ‘Cas’ as Dean, Sam, and Bobby do?”

“I don’t know you well enough yet.” She took a sip of her coffee. For motel coffee it was actually rather decent.

“That word ‘yet’ implies that you assume I’ll survive this war. My continued survival isn’t a given.”

“You’ve proven rather hard to kill, right? I expect you’ll be with us for a very long time.”

As they spoke, he slowly sat up straighter until his posture was once more correct, a fragment of the fatigue slipping from his features. It wasn’t much in the whole of what he appeared to be feeling, but it seemed enough to fortify him.

“Thank you, Jo.” He stood.

“For what?”

“For being your mother’s daughter.” With a twitch of his lips that could have been the beginning of a smile, he disappeared.

“You’re welcome.” Jo sat thinking on what little he’d said and his appearance, and reached for her phone. She’d leave Dean a text. If he could send her messages at all hours, she could return the favor.

‘Cas was here. Where r u?’

To her surprise, an answer came within a minute. 

‘MN. What’d he want?’

Why was Dean awake at…she did a mental calculation…five-thirty his time? 

‘Would rather talk in person. Location?’

He gave her their location. Jo checked the forecast, packed up, and headed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam glanced at Dean while he drove them back to their motel. He was holding that Best Buy package like it had a million bucks stashed inside it, his expression overly pleased as he crooned what Sam realized was ‘I Can’t Fight This Feeling’ under his breath.

“Okay, I gotta ask. What’s in the bag?” Sam himself had declined going into Best Buy this time, going instead to the guns and ammo shop he’d found and picking up a few things they needed.

“Jo’s coming to meet us.”

As if that explained it completely. Though maybe it did, he decided. Dean was growing more attached to her with every interaction, whether it was texts (and there were a ton of those almost daily), phone calls (she’d call out of the blue to chat or ask a question that had an answer Sam knew she already knew), and visits (sometimes he thought either she was following their path across the U.S or they were following hers). Then there were the ‘my car is having issues’ calls that sent Dean out to wherever she was every time to fix it for her. 

The last one had gotten them up against a vampire who’d taken a shine to her and wanted her to join him. Jo had declined rather forcefully and when her refusal didn’t work, Dean and Sam had stepped in to help with the problem.

Did Dean realize that her ‘car issues’ were nothing more than ploys to get him to wherever she was? There was rarely anything actually wrong with the car when they got there. He _ought_ to realize it. 

“And?”

Dean adjusted the heater settings. “It’s Christmas. She hasn’t had a Christmas in years now.”

“You’re going to give her one?”

His brows waggled. “I’m gonna give her something alright.”

A snort of laughter hurt his nose. “I thought you two already…you know.”

“No, no. Jo’s got that whole self respect stuff going on. I’ve been respecting her boundaries and I think that’s going to pay off big-time.”

Interesting. He was respecting her ‘boundaries’. “Who are you and what have you done with Dean?”

“Funny.” He shook a finger at him. “No, I’m kind of liking this anticipation thing with her. When I finally get…. It’s going to be something….”

“Special?”

“You’re going to leave the room for a good long while when she gets here. In fact, maybe you should get your own room.”

“You’re throwing me out on Christmas?”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“Should you be unwrapping Jo then?”

Dean didn’t answer.

~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn’t a girlfriend, except in the fact that she was both female and a friend, nor was she a friend with full benefits. In Dean’s opinion, a few kisses and gropes didn’t count to that latter end unless they led to more adult activities and near spontaneous combustion. So what _was_ Jo exactly?

She was a friend, female, well on her way to being a lover, yet was somehow still in that funny gray area in-between. Could that even count as a girlfriend? It wasn’t like they were exclusive or anything. He simply hadn’t felt like picking up any women lately…. Flirted, yes, but actually bringing one back to the room…no.

As he’d told Sam, Jo had a self-respect thing going on where she didn’t go in for casual sex. Before Carthage, he’d thought maybe she’d just been telling him that to let him down easy, but no, she really felt that way. She didn’t have casual sex. Still, on a couple of occasions now, there’d been the possibility of a series of wild nights that had gotten shut down due to outside influences. She was willing. He was willing. Yet they couldn’t quite make it happen before someone or thing interrupted.

‘Talk in person’ she’d claimed to want. Hard to tell if that was girl code or not for ‘I want to sex you up’. He supposed Castiel _could_ have stopped by to see her and that she _could_ want to discuss him….

Nah. This was like all those car problems she kept having. Jo just wanted to see him and was using Cas as an excuse.

Smug in that conclusion and in the timing (after all, wasn’t Christmas all about new beginnings?), he was therefore surprised when she arrived and wanted to discuss Castiel, seeming completely oblivious to the fact that it was Christmas. Didn’t women live for the gift exchange holidays and things?

~~~~~~~~~~

The trail’s end was up ahead and Castiel materialized with caution, certain he was going to finally be face-to-face with Uzziel and receive answers to his continuing questions.

Instead, he found a body on the ground, the pattern of wings burned into the ground.

It wasn’t Uzziel. Nor was it any of Castiel’s sometime allies. That left either a deserter or one of Raphael’s soldiers.

Why had he been murdered? The scent of death was still fresh. It had happened within the past few minutes. If Cas had been a moment sooner, he would have witnessed it and maybe known for certain why Uzziel was leaving a blatant trail behind to follow. Had he become that sloppy? Or was he that rushed now with the battles escalating? What was his objective?

Castiel found no answers in the sight of the body in the middle of the street or in the surrounding area. Determination filled him. He’d just have to stop following a trail and find Uzziel in a more straightforward way. He began to gather the things he needed until he had all but one ingredient.

Dean disliked being a blood donor for anything, so maybe…. Castiel made up his mind.

He’d go to Jo for it this time.

~~~~~~~~~~

The motel Dean and Sam had chosen was easy to find and Jo parked beside the Impala. As she’d driven, she’d thought on what she wanted to say and wasn’t sure at all how to broach the subject of Castiel’s health. Even when she was in the room, she didn’t know how to begin, finally saying, “Have you two seen Castiel lately? I mean really seen him?”

Sam paused in putting on his coat. “He hasn’t been by for awhile. Not since the dummy. Why?”

“Well….” She sat on the couch, hands on her knees. “He doesn’t look very good. He’s all…I don’t know…frazzled.”

Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the dresser. “He’s fighting a losing battle against Raphael. That gives him cause to be a little off.”

“No, this is more than that, Dean. It’s like he’s losing hope of making any progress at all. He slumped in a chair, for crying out loud! Even that night before Carthage he didn’t slump in that chair.” She shrugged. “I don’t know,” Jo repeated, standing back up and crossing her arms like Dean and moving towards him. “I’m worried about him.”

“Okay.” Sam nodded and finished putting on his coat, then zipped it up. “Next time he shows up, we’ll talk to him about it. Though there’s not much we can do to help him, Jo.” He jerked a thumb towards the door. “I’ll go get some pizza and whiskey, maybe a few other things. Be back in a bit.”

She felt better knowing they’d at least look closer at Castiel when they saw him next. “Okay. Could you pick up one that’s a quarter Hawaiian?”

“Yeah, sure.” He left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Dean cleared his throat. “You came all this way to talk about Cas?”

“Not completely,” she admitted. “As I was talking to him, I realized there’s a lot I don’t know about him. Or about angels at all. It feels strange, you know? Talking to an angel.”

“He’s surprisingly human in some ways. When Sam gets back, we can give you the low-down on him if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

He uncrossed his arms, both hands reaching back behind him. One returned to the front with a package. It was a small, square present, wrapped in Christmas paper with a huge red bow on the top.

“What’s this?” Jo took it from him.

“A present.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” she protested, suddenly figuring out just what day it was. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. She’d managed to avoid thinking about Christmas. Her mom had always made a big deal over it wherever they were. She remembered going to everything from Christmas plays at high schools and amateur theater groups, to madrigal dinners and special presentations of ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ at a theater that served concessions at one dollar an item.

He held a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “I’ve got a terrific idea for a gift.”

With a smile, Jo raised up and gave him a kiss that left her breathless and obviously warmed him more than a little, as he put the mistletoe down and reached for her, intention in his eyes and posture. Quickly, she sidestepped and took the present to the couch. He followed her, sitting close beside her as she opened it.

Three cd’s spilled out. The greatest hits of Survivor, Journey, and REO Speedwagon.

Her smile turned into a grin. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” Dean seemed genuinely puzzled as to why he wouldn’t remember.

“I’ll bet you were _so_ embarrassed to buy these.”

“I can never show my face in that store again,” he said in a solemn tone.

She hugged him, pressing her face into his neck for a brief moment before drawing back. “Thank you, Dean. I love them.” She looked around the motel room, understanding now why Sam had beat a hasty retreat. He was always doing things like that whenever she was with them; going out and leaving her alone with Dean. Not to mention that he was always out far longer than each task he’d assigned himself should last. Drawing her legs up, she curled them beside her and turned a little, facing him. “I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts. I would have bought you two something --”

“No, no, I know. I just thought….” His hand touched her knee twice before resting on it and squeezing gently. “I thought you’d like those and with it Christmas and all…. Ellen once mentioned that you always exchanged gifts….” He ducked his head.

Jo set her hand on his. “That’s a sweet thought.”

“Yeah, well….” Turning his head, he stared at her, that glimmer of intent returning. His free hand raised, fingers caressing her cheek. Slowly, he leaned forward, giving her ample time to pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. The kiss was soft at first, quickly growing in heat and intensity. His hands moved, maneuvering her against him and somehow, she found herself on her back. Her shirt went flying, then his, soon followed by her bra. His hands were reaching for the button on her jeans when a husky voice came from across the room.

“I need your assistance.” Glass clinked.

Jo managed to gulp back her startled scream at Castiel’s sudden, untimely appearance, snatching Dean’s t-shirt to her since her own was somewhere on the floor.

“Cas!” Dean sat back. “What the hell?”

“Dean?” His back straightened and Jo thought his head had a puzzled tilt to it as he turned from whatever he was doing at the table. Was he surprised at Dean’s presence? It certainly looked that way to her. “Jo, I need your assistance,” he repeated in a slight irritated tone. 

“I’m half naked,” she replied. “Knocking, Castiel, remember? We talked about knocking.”

He blinked, gaze lowering to her chest and Dean’s shirt. “Oh. We did.” He seemed to realize he’d interrupted something then, his eyes widening, gaze flicking along her, then Dean. One brow twitched, his glance raising to where Jo’s bra was draped across the lampshade. “I see.” He turned back to the table. “I shall…leave for a moment so you may dress.” The way he said the words made it clear he thought it silly for him to have to leave, but he’d do it anyway. As quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

Dean snorted. “You ever get the feeling the world is conspiring against us?”

“All the time.” Having noticed earlier how fast a moment was in Castiel time, Jo hurried to put her clothes back on before he reappeared.

“Later, right?” Dean smoothed her shirt across her hips before snatching his own shirt up and tugging it on. 

“Yeah.” Somehow, she knew that later was going to be very much later, as in ‘not this trip’. Jo stepped to the table to see what Castiel had been doing. There was a bowl on the table and a jar beside it.

Castiel was back then, with a startled Sam who held a pizza box and a big paper sack.

Jo gasped as Castiel grasped her arm and pulled it towards him, then hissed as he drew a knife across her skin. “Ouch!” She tried to pull back, but he held her arm over the bowl until blood dripped into it before releasing her.

“Can you ask before bleeding one of us,” Dean demanded, stepping closer.

Castiel slanted an impatient frown in his direction. “I needed the human blood and thought it best to ask forgiveness than argue. I don’t know what _you’re_ complaining about. I didn’t choose you for it this time.” Stretching his hand back out, and without stopping what he was doing, he touched her arm, the thin wound healing without a mark. “Forgive me, Jo?”

“Sure, just ask next time.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Dean told her, “or he’ll just keep pulling that shit.”

Castiel’s body stiffened and the look he gave Dean indicated to Jo that he had a million things he was wanting to say, none of them complimentary. His lips tightened into a thin line and he bent his head once more without saying any of them.

“What are you doing?” Sam set the pizza and bag down.

“Trying to locate Uzziel. He left me a trail, but all I found was a dead angel that wasn’t him at the end.” His voice crooned low, words that made no sense to Jo. After a moments, he made a growl of frustration and slammed a fist onto the table. “Why is he doing this?” Castiel looked like he was on the verge of a complete meltdown, barely holding himself together, worse than when she’d seen him only a day earlier.

“Doing what? Who’s Uzziel?” Dean edged in front of Jo, almost like he was protecting her from any more bloodletting Castiel might have in mind to do.

“One of Raphael’s generals.” Castiel turned away from the table. “I thought I’d mentioned him to you before. He’s masked himself and I can’t find him. All I get are questions that I can’t answer and they’re all so…so…” He drew in a deep breath. It was a visible effort to calm himself that didn’t look to be working. “May I have a beer?”

“A…beer?” Sam turned a questioning glance to Dean, who shrugged, then went to the cooler, took one out and brought it back. “Here. Enjoy.”

He drank it in several long swallows, head tipping back until he was done. “Thank you.” He handed the bottle back. “I feel no better.” Slowly, his gaze raised to the ceiling. Jo would almost swear she saw tears shining there. “I have to go. They’re coming.”

“Who’s coming?”

“Raphael’s soldiers.” He was gone again before they could say anything, replaced by four angels who stared at each of them one by one before disappearing themselves.

Jo found her hands were shaking. “He barely got out of here.”

“It’s not the first time,” Dean said and reached for the sack Sam had brought. He drew out a large bottle of whiskey. “What’s say we break out the good stuff and drink a few to his success in avoiding them?”

Her visit had suddenly gotten less cheery.


	12. Chapter 12

Ellen was a continuing mystery to Gwen and if she had to, she’d admit that part of the reason she continued to hunt with her was because she’d silently taken on Ellen as a job. Mysteries intrigued her, especially one as puzzling as this one. What on earth had happened to Ellen to cause this loss of memory? With the little Ellen was able to tell her, Gwen had concluded it certainly wasn’t natural. She dug at it, slowly trying to piece it together, much to Ellen’s amusement. This was something big. She could feel it in her gut.

She called Sam, using general terms and no names, talking to him about Ellen like she was not only a full case, but a man instead of a woman.

“It’s weird, Sam. This guy’s memories are shot. He has no idea who he is, but at the same time, he does know. He knows his job --”

“To be honest here, Gwen, it doesn’t sound like anything weird to me, just a case of --”

“Amnesia, I know. I’ve done the research into it. Trust me when I say it’s far more bizarre. There’s something not right with his situation that I’m obviously having trouble putting into words.” Maybe it’d be easier if she spilled it all to him? She cast a glance at the connecting door to Ellen’s room, reluctant to tell him there was a hunter out there with no memory. For all she knew, Ellen hadn’t gotten along with them and they’d rush in here before Gwen got answers. She was determined to get answers, preferring to get them before they finally did cross paths.

“Is he a danger to those around him?”

Gwen smiled. How to explain _that_ part to Sam? “Not generally. He could take down a threat if one happened along.” Which was the truth. Ellen was very capable.

“Is his lack of memory messing with his quality of life?”

“Quality of life?” She snorted at his use of the phrase. Sometimes this new Sam she’d had to get to know said things in the politest way. It had taken some getting used to on her part after months of the other Sam.

“What?” His tone changed, like he knew what she was thinking and was tired of such a response. Maybe he was. He had to be getting it a lot of Dean and from friends. Gwen knew he did have a few friends he’d reconnected with.

“Oh, just that I kind of miss you saying things blunt and straight. Quality of life? What you mean is ‘is he screwed in the head on a daily basis’ and the answer is no. He’s competent, sane, and has no trouble living life or getting along with others.”

She heard him sigh. “Then I guess I’m not understanding what the job is or why you’re even still on it. If the only problem is a little amnesia, that’s a job for his doctor, not a hunter. Last I checked, while you’re pretty good at stitching up wounds, you’re not a doctor of any kind.”

Gwen flipped open the top of her bag and pulled out clean clothes. She needed to wrap this up if she wanted to take a shower before heading out to meet Ellen for breakfast and plan their strategy for going after the possible langsuirin the area. “I think he’s hexed or something.”

“Any signs of it?”

“Not that I’ve found,” she admitted slowly. “It’s just…. I’ve got a gut feeling it’s not a natural amnesia.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure you haven’t developed feelings for him?”

She should have seen that one coming and smiled. “I’m sure.”

“Because it happens, Gwen. Happens to hunters all the time. We blow in to town, get up close, and then, what do you know, we’re having to kill the person we’ve begun to like because she’s the monster all along.”

Sounded like personal experience to her. She wondered what the story was on that. “I’m not falling for him, Sam. Believe me. I like my guys to be…guys.”

“Oh.” The way he said the word told her the sort of conclusion he’d drawn.

“Yeah. Well, I’ll keep working on this.”

“Sometimes you can’t wrap things up neatly and you have to move on. Can you afford to stick around and try to solve it?”

Considering she and Ellen were working together…. Yes. “It’s not a problem. Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime.”

She hung up and turned her tv back down. While they had rough patches where they annoyed each other, which was usual in her opinion, she and Ellen had developed a decent rapport. They’d even exchanged Christmas gifts: gloves for Ellen and a scarf for Gwen. Considering Ellen had misplaced her gloves and Gwen hadn’t had a scarf at all, the exchange worked nicely and they were both pleased with their gifts.

Gwen went to take a shower. By the time she got to the restaurant, Ellen was already there, dressed in a smart blue suit and looking mildly uncomfortable in it. Whether she hated it or not, it looked good on her. Sometimes, dressing up was necessary. Gwen didn’t care for it herself, but she’d learned long ago that she’d have to do things she didn’t like in any profession.

A cup of coffee was cooling at Ellen’s elbow, a small laptop open before her. “They possess their victim and suck their blood from inside them.”

“That’s an appetizing thought right before breakfast.” Taking off her coat, Gwen dropped it on the seat and scooted in to the booth opposite Ellen. “Sounds like a vampire. They are a kind of one, right?”

Ellen glanced at her, nodded, then returned her gaze to the screen. “In Malay folklore. They’re supposed to be hideous and vengeful, with red eyes, claws, long hair, and fangs.”

“Sounds just like what’s been seen.”

“And they fly.”

She sighed and picked up the menu, perusing it. “That complicates things nicely if it’s true.”

“It’s true,” she said in a sure tone. Ellen closed the laptop and put it in the bag beside her. “They fly and they’re extremely dangerous. You sure you’re up for this?”

“Bring it on.”

Ellen smiled. “Now that’s what I like to see: eagerness for the job.” She saluted Gwen with her coffee cup.

They each had their role in the partnership and fell into it as the day unfolded.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Castiel merely an instant in the motel room to realize his mistake. As long as he’d been following Uzziel’s trail, he’d been the hunter by Uzziel’s choice, but as soon as he deviated from Uzziel’s plan, he became the hunted, also by Uzziel’s choice. All along he’d been following Uzziel’s script for him. Castiel could kick himself for not realizing it a long time ago. 

The worst part was that he couldn’t shake his pursuers. He’d tried everything he could think of, but they kept on after him. No matter what he did, they were behind him. When the four on his tail turned away, four new angels took their place, over and over, following him until it was clear that he couldn’t run forever. Defeat welled up inside him.

It was over.

He was on the run, his supporters…. Castiel wasn’t even sure what had become of most of them. There hadn’t been time to stop and check on any of them. He’d heard of a few having been killed for certain.

Fine, he thought. So be it. If they were coming for him, he wanted to be with friends in the end. He wanted to see Dean Winchester.

With a burst of speed that was nearly the last of his resources at present, he found Dean.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke to Castiel sitting on the side of his bed like old times. He sat up, glancing over at the other bed. Sam wasn’t there. Maybe he was out talking to Gwen. She’d mentioned some pretty weird cases lately, like running into an actual langsuir. Turned out cutting their claws really did turn them human again. Sam had added that one to the notes on other various creatures in his laptop. 

“You’re okay,” he said. He’d worried about Cas after witnessing the hot pursuit by Raphael’s soldiers, counting the days and watching them pass by until the calendar turned to February. Castiel had been gone for over a month, not answering any calls. How much of that time had been spent running, trying his best to keep ahead of the soldiers pursuing him?

“I live,” Castiel replied, not moving.

“ _Are_ you okay?”

To Dean’s horror, Castiel seemed to crumble, shoulders bowing, and he saw exactly what Jo had described at Christmas: Castiel close to giving up completely. Not again, he thought. He remembered well the last time Castiel had given up. He’d gone on a bender, drinking an entire liquor store. “I’ve lost seventeen followers in the past month, Dean. Seventeen good angels who wouldn’t bow to Raphael. And those are only the ones I know about. The total of angels I’ve lost….” He leaned his head back. “I can’t continue to throw them all away.” His head turned and Dean was further horrified by the despair in his eyes. “I’m considering surrendering. I can’t hold him back.”

“You were having victories, Cas. What happened to them?”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “One step forward to Raphael’s five. His army grows and mine never gets very big to begin with. Angels are either afraid of him, share his views, or don’t wish to die so they do nothing. Where does that leave me?”

“You can’t give up.” He shook his head, tossing the covers aside and moving to sit beside him. “Sam and I, we’ve told you before that we’ll help if we can. We’ve said it several times. Just tell us what we should do and we’ll do it.”

“You can’t help me. You can hardly join me in the heavenly realm and fight alongside me there in battle.”

“Then why are you here?” Dean wasn’t sure he understood what Castiel wanted from him right now.

He hesitated, glancing away then back. “Jo said it can help to discuss things. You’re my friend. I came to talk and wait.”

Dean closed his eyes for a long second. When he opened them, Castiel was still watching him. “Oh, Cas….” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m not real good at the soul-baring stuff, but…” He gestured with one hand, “lay it on me.”

“I did. I still don’t feel better. Jo was mistaken.”

“You…. Okay.” That was easy. He’d thought there’d be more. “Are you…staying awhile?”

“I’ve nowhere else to go. I’ve hidden my path here as well as I can, but when they do come for me --”

“I’ll kill them if I can.”

“-- I’d rather be with friends than alone. I’d rather you know what happened to me, since I know you do care somewhat for me.”

“Stop it.” He put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and raised the other hand, pointing at him in emphasis of what he was going to say. “ _You_ aren’t going to be taken and you’re sure as _hell_ not surrendering, not if I have anything to say about it.”

“I’ve accepted the inevitable --”

“Geez!” Dean got up and reached for his robe, putting it on. “What’s wrong with you, Cas? I haven’t seen you like this since….” He didn’t finish the sentence. Castiel didn’t like to mention his former fallen state, nor had Dean told him about what he’d seen in the future. He hated seeing Castiel this way. It always sent a sharp burst of sheer wrongness through him. “You’re not giving up. I won’t let you.”

“If you have anything you’d like to tell me, then say it before they get here.”

He stared at Castiel. “Are you serious?”

“Of course. The past two times I was killed, I was unable to tell you what I wished to beforehand. I…I wasn’t ready to verbalize. The opportunity is now here and I’m ready to. I’d like to tell you that you mean a lot to me, Dean. I’ve come to care very much for you, more than I do other humans. You’ve been more of a brother to me than my own. I think the word that fits how I feel best is ‘love’. Phileo to be precise. Brotherly love. A feeling, not agape. Agape doesn’t address my feelings.” He nodded slowly, as though still mulling over his own word choice. “Phileo. I love you and I thank you for all you’ve taught me about humanity during our acquaintance. The learning experience has been invaluable and I’m honored to be considered a friend.”

“Are you screwed in the head? Are you seriously going to do the whole ‘goodbye, nice knowing you’ bit?”

He put his hands on his knees, frowning up at Dean. “I’m using the opportunity given to me to tie up my human relationships in a satisfactory manner so that you may grieve my death properly when it comes very soon.”

“You go in to battle with that attitude and you’re screwed.”

“I’m,” he used finger quotes on the next word, “screwed whether I do or not and I recall quite clearly that you yourself gave up during the Apocalypse.”

He shook his head. “I rallied. You were there at the end of it. You know what happened.” Dean continued to talk until he realized he was going round in circles. Cas was in a funk and wasn’t coming out of it. He sat beside him again, trying to figure out some other tactic to take that might snap him out of this. 

When Castiel’s voice came, it was low and tentative. “ _Do_ you have anything you’d want to tell me if these moments are my last?”

Dean thought about it. There were always things he’d want to say. So what if it _was_ Castiel’s last few minutes? Maybe he’d humor Cas and hopefully something he said would help. “Sure.” He began to list a few things. “Thank you for finding Jo and telling me. I’m glad to have her back. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me and for Sam. We’d be far worse off without you around, that’s for sure. I’m sorry I snapped at you when Jo was with us the last time. I was so close with her…. I’m sorry I’ve been a dick off and on. We humans don’t always behave on our best behavior when things aren’t going our way and we lash out. Sometimes we do that to people we care about, take it out on them. Hell, Sam and I do it to each other all the time.” 

“You care about me.”

“Thought it was obvious. Cas, I may not say it, but I really do care about you. I guess if I think about it, it qualifies as ‘love’. What was the word you used again?” 

“Phileo,” Cas supplied it.

“Yeah, that.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and ignoring the ‘chick-flick’ feel of the moment. If it got Cas back on track, he’d just go with it. “I get what you’re doing up there, I do. I know it’ll affect all of us eventually and knowing you’re trying to stop it makes it seem better. I know you feel like you’re the only one up there fighting for the right cause. I’ve been there, remember? But you were brought back for a reason. I may not agree with what your big boss does, but I agree on him bringing you back. The world needs you. The _angels_ need you, whether they know it or not.” 

He knew it probably didn’t seem like he understood how big Castiel’s war was, but he did. He got it. It was just…. Dean didn’t want to think about heaven going belly up when he and Sam had fought so hard to save the earth. Out of sight out of mind. He’d rather bury the immenseness of it than actively contemplate it. Castiel must feel like Team Free Will all over again only without the other members.

“Can one angel change the heavens, Dean?”

“Can one man change the world,” he countered, looking over at him.

“One man has many times in world history.”

“Then isn’t that your answer? You’re changing things, Cas. You are. And it’s for the better. All you’re seeing is the war in front of you, but how many angels have changed sides because of you? How many are rethinking their stance? You have friends and allies. They _are_ there. You can give up and turn yourself in, but where will they be? Hunted. You know Raphael is going to hunt them if you’re caught or not.”

Castiel was thoughtful, the despair disappearing from his eyes as he considered the words. “Jo believes I’ll live through the war.”

“And she barely knows you. How much more do you think I believe you’ll live through it?”

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”

“Cas, apparently you’ve got _God_ on your side and you need a confidence boost? Can Raphael boast of God’s favor anymore?”

“I do no boasting about it. Boasting isn’t becoming for an angel. It’s --”

“You know what I mean, though?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I do.” He sighed and looked away. “Jo was right after all. I do feel better.” He nodded again, this time with a bit more force. “I no longer wish to sit and wait for them to come for me. In fact, I’m surprised they’ve not arrived already.”

“You see? What have I been telling you? You have to take time out to recharge.” He’d been telling Castiel that for a very long time. Everyone needed to get together with friends, even angels. “And maybe you gave them the slip.”

“I doubt that,” he said in a dry tone. Castiel stood and turned. “I meant what I said. Phileo.”

“I know.”

“If I don’t come back --”

“You’re coming back.”

“But if I don’t --”

“Cas.”

He nodded and vanished without another word.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flirting with Dean Winchester was an art form that Jo began to slowly perfect as time passed. He treated her well in their meetings, with more attention focused solely on her than she’d ever had from him. It was nice to be pursued and by someone very good at the process. 

January passed in a blur. Normally, the cold months were slower, but for Jo, the days passed quickly. She worked a couple jobs, found an actual job to alleviate her boredom with traveling, and took a quick break from searching for her mother. It was difficult not to feel guilty about the break. However, Jo was beginning to feel discouraged and she knew from experience that the best thing to do was to simply live for awhile. Honest living, too. The sort that meant she paid income tax and gave out her real social.

She decided to break through February and start up her search again in March.

Dean, as always, was fun. He’d finally gotten around to asking all of the little getting to know you things he should have asked years ago when they’d first met. Her birthday, favorite color, things like that. He brought up each question so casually, too.

Her phone rang and she smiled to herself, answering it as she closed the dryer and started it. “Think of the devil and there he calls. What’s up?”

“Got a creature to add to your creature-feature diary.”

“What would that be?”

“It’s called a langsuir. It’s --”

“Similar to a vampire. I’ve got that one already. Mom and I ran across one right after we started working together. Nasty piece of monster crap. Dangerous as hell. We nearly didn’t survive it. Where’d you run into one?” She sat in one plastic chair and stretched her legs out. The Laundromat was warm and quiet save the thump of her dryer. She was alone at present.

“We didn’t. Gwen did.”

“That’s your cousin, right? How’d she do with one by herself? Those are usually best taken care of in a tag-team effort.”

She heard him make what sounded like a cross between a chuckle and a groan. “If anyone could deal with it alone, Gwen could. Girl has attitude and ability some men would kill for. She’s not alone, at least she wasn’t then anyway. She told Sam she’d teamed up with someone.”

“Anyone we know?”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Gwen was being coy as to who. She won’t say. Avoids the topic. Leaves out names. Sam’s convinced she’s got a boyfriend helping her out and is trying to keep us from digging at him.”

“And you? What do you think?”

“I think Gwen’s doing some kind of digging of her own and we won’t know what’s going on with her until she thinks it’s time.” Another sigh. “I don’t know. Sam could be right. She did get a lot of protective crap from family and Samuel for a long time. I guess it could be a boyfriend, though I don’t know why she’d hide it from us.”

Jo made a face at her phone then returned it against her ear. “Seriously? Dean, she’s part of your family now.”

“She is. What’s your point?”

“You protect your family and if you thought she was going to be hurt, what would you do?”

“Go in there.”

“Exactly. She knows you would, too. Dean, she’s got your number. She knows you and Sam would go rushing in to help and she doesn’t want help.” She toyed with the hem of her shirt. “Some day, I want to meet this woman. I think I’m going to like her.”

“I think the two of you would butt heads so fast….”

The conversation continued and when it finally concluded, Jo was surprised to find that over an hour had passed.


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel wasn’t cooperating. Uzziel observed that truth with only the barest bit of annoyance. Since when had Castiel ever cooperated long anyway? He was as much a poster boy of free will as the Winchester brothers were. Indeed, it was almost expected that Castiel wouldn’t cooperate, so Uzziel wasn’t going to complain about it.

He simply scrapped his plans of a ‘chance’ meeting and sent soldiers to follow Castiel. They weren’t to engage him, merely request his presence. Also expected, Castiel ran, assuming their pursuit was with malicious intent. When those grew tired of pursuit, more took their place, a continuing circuit. Eventually, Castiel would have to stop running and they would meet face to face.

The time had come to put an end to Raphael.

The many pieces Uzziel had been covertly putting into place were ready. He’d gathered his forces, made his battle plans, and persuaded the faint of heart to take a stand. He’d risked himself many times, though not nearly as often as Castiel chanced death. Castiel seemed to walk that line daily. When he believed in a cause, he devoted himself to it wholeheartedly, using every last resource available to him for his advantage.

Admirable. 

Raphael wasn’t even suspicious of Uzziel, a thing that constantly surprised him. He’d thought he would be found out by now, but no, Raphael was blind to the insurrection right before him, intent upon Castiel, certain that Castiel was wearing down and even gleeful in his belief of that. He wanted Castiel beaten down, certain there was no help anywhere for him. He also wanted Castiel captured alive so he, Raphael, could have the pleasure of disposing of him himself. Raphael thought Uzziel was pursuing Castiel under his orders.

It made the task of arranging a meeting with Castiel a bit easier. However, deceit was wearing. The end of war was going to be welcome. Uzziel couldn’t wait for that moment of peace that would come.

In his mind, he made a mental list of those things he and Castiel would need to discuss when it was all said and done. There’d be questions, concerns and matters they’d need to address and while he knew it wasn’t good to assume a victory before it was there, he had to have some hope to cling to. He imagined the heaven he wanted at present, not Paradise, because that was a dead dream, but rather a return to the peaceful days right after God had left them.

Did Castiel remember those days? So few really did. Not many had hung on to the memories like Uzziel had. The hours had been orderly, angels still involved in praising God and carrying out His commands, happy in their place, not yet realizing that their Father had left them alone….

He thought that without Raphael, he and Castiel had a chance at restoring order and returning heaven to a place of shining glory. Maybe together they could shake off the dust and dirt that was staining it all and prepare it for God’s return. He had to be coming back. It’s what Uzziel thought the favor bestowed to Castiel meant. He’d favored the lowest and humbled the highest.

But there was still more humbling to be completed.

One battle and then a new day could begin in heaven like it had on earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

At first, Sam had thought the shopping mall had something to do with their possible case. He quickly concluded he was mistaken as Dean seemed to lose all interest in keeping up a coherent conversation, muttering to himself as he paused in front of various stores. Sam couldn’t recall seeing Dean behave like this…well…ever.

“What are we doing at the mall,” he finally asked.

“Jo’s birthday is coming up.” Dean stopped in front of one mall map, index finger pointing, gaze scanning the contents. He grunted and started walking again, this time a little faster.

“So?”

“I want to get her something.”

“How do you know it’s her birthday?”

“I asked her.”

“When is it?”

“April.”

Sam laughed. “Dean, today is February twelfth. Her birthday is still two months away. Are you sure it’s not Valentine’s Day that you want to get her a present for?”

“Is it….” His expression shifted to one of chagrin. “Oh, it is.” He nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work. Okay, I want to get her something for Valentine’s Day.”

“Uh-huh. She’s your girlfriend then?”

Dean stopped walking, peering into the window of Victoria’s Secret with a pensive frown. “She lets me grope her.”

“That means she’s your girlfriend?”

“We text a lot.” He pointed at one particularly slinky piece of lingerie. “Think she’d look good in that? 

“You want me to picture Jo in skimpy lingerie? Are you sure you want me to do that?”

“You don’t have to picture it on her, just think about the color. You do that sort of chick stuff. Is that a good color for her?” He immediately answered his own question. “Maybe in purple, not the green. I wonder if they have it in purple.”

“So she’s your girlfriend?” One way or another, he was going to make Dean say it and acknowledge what had been building. Slowly, Jo had become Dean’s girlfriend, though Sam didn’t think either Dean or Jo had ever mentioned that word to themselves or to each other. It was what she was, however. She fit the definition and fit it well.

“What? Didn’t quite catch that….” He went into the store, checking the rack. “No purple.”

“I know you’re not hard of hearing, Dean. If someone asks who Jo is, what do you say?”

Dean caught the attention of one saleswoman and turned on the charm with a flirtatious grin. “Would you happen to have this in any other colors, maybe a purple or a navy blue?”

“I’m sorry. It only comes in green, but if you’re looking for something similar for your…wife? Girlfriend?”

Apparently, Dean’s answer was to avoid directly answering the question, for he merely grinned wider. “She looks good in purple or navy or even a pale, pale pink.”

“Well, then, we have this chemise right here,” she stepped to another rack and held up a barely there bit of lace and satin, “or perhaps a bra and panty set?” She led them to a wall at the back. “These are very popular this season and do come in a variety of colors.”

“Thanks.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do.” When the woman had stepped away, after giving Sam himself a rather blatant once over (that he returned wholeheartedly), Dean crossed his arms and gave the wall a critical stare. “Do you think it’s too weird to give her lingerie?”

“Well, as you yourself said, she lets you grope her.”

“Lingerie says something though.”

“Yeah. On Valentine’s Day it says ‘I want to see this on you for two seconds and rip it right back off you’. If you’re looking for a romantic gesture, go for it -- unless you’re not sure of her size.”

“No, I know her size. These hands are surprisingly accurate with commercial sizing.” He held up a hand, slightly cupped, eyed it, then pointed at one rack on the wall. “That’s her size right there. I’ve never been wrong.” Then, he reached for the nearest rack and pulled out a teddy. “This is her size too.”

“So buy her one.”

He frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not romantic enough.” The teddy was shoved back on the rack. 

“Ro --” If those two didn’t do something soon, Sam was going to lock them in a room together and not let them out until it happened. Anticipation was fine and dandy, but this was verging on ridiculous. “What’s her favorite color?”

“She claims it’s red.”

“What is it really?”

“Pink. That light pink that’s all cotton candy and babies.”

“How do you know that?”

“Dude, did you even _notice_ her underwear when you packed it that day last fall?”

He shrugged. “Satiny, lacy, barely there.”

“Pink. Pink, pink, and, for a little variety, pink.”

“Buy her one of these things in pink then.” Sam reached out and touched a row of silky lingerie on one rack. “Looks like they’ve got several.”

His frown deepened. “It’s not romantic enough.” Slowly, a pleased light lit his eyes and he chuckled. “Oh yeah. I’ve just got the best idea….”

That glint in Dean’s eye was just mischievous enough to make Sam groan as he followed him from the store.

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t that Dean intended to go to a mall. Not really. He was inclined to avoid them usually, but when buying gifts of a more serious nature than a few cd’s, the mall was the place to go, especially for a woman’s gift.

So what did one buy for the woman who was more than a friend, but not quite a girlfriend, yet in that gray area where they occasionally made out in dark corners, texted and called a lot, and visited often?

Okay, maybe she _was_ his girlfriend. Really, though, he hadn’t given the word much thought until Sam started mentioning it all the time in relation to Jo. He kept asking if Jo was Dean’s girlfriend, which didn’t annoy him, it just…made him think a bit harder about their relationship than he wanted to at present. Did Jo consider herself his girlfriend? If she did, then shouldn’t whatever he got her be romantic?

But what would be romantic for Jo? Dean could still list what had been romantic for Lisa. She’d liked the standard things like chocolates (not too many because they were fattening), flowers (roses preferred, carnations as a second, or some expensive exotic hothouse flower he’d never learned the name of as a third choice), or surprise dinners at upscale restaurants. The dinners and chocolates had been few, but he’d managed to swing flowers now and then. Jo though…. What would she like? He had no doubt that she’d be polite about any of those things. She’d probably eat the chocolates and not say one word about calories. She’d smile at the flowers. However, he didn’t think she’d be any more at ease than he was at one of those fancy restaurants.

Dean imagined Jo would like the worst dive he could find just fine as long as it served that beer she liked. 

He wandered the building, peering into this store and that one, absent-mindedly answering Sam’s questions while he tried to think of the absolute perfect gift for Jo. He wanted something romantic, but not too romantic in a presumptuous way; something that would say more than ‘I want in your pants’.

Perhaps Victoria’s Secret was inappropriate he decided after perusing the store. After all, he’d hate to buy her something sexy without an assurance he’d get the payoff of actually seeing it on her.

Was there a gift that said ‘I want in your pants, but I’ll respect your boundaries even if they give me blue balls’?

What would Jo like? It couldn’t be about what he’d like for her. This had to be about what _she’d_ like. She was a woman, first and foremost, but she was also a hunter….

An idea took root and Dean knew it was perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We could use some muscle on this one,” Ellen observed, going over the file they’d put together again. “Why don’t you call one of your cousins, invite him along?”

Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know, Ellen. I think we can handle it by ourselves.”

“Sweetie, how old am I? Like it or not, we need muscle on this one -- male upper body strength. As fit as you and I are, we just don’t have the physique and I hate to let this slip by without being taken care of.”

She wasn’t understanding Gwen’s reticence in inviting her cousins along. By now, Ellen had heard quite a bit about the two men and was wondering when she’d get a chance to meet them. They sounded like good young men, solid in experience and work ethic.

“They’re probably busy.”

“Won’t know unless you call,” she responded in a reasonable tone, watching Gwen’s expression carefully.

Resignation slowly crossed her features. Gwen was weakening, perhaps thinking of the pulled muscles they’d both suffered from after that last job in Texas. “I hate to interrupt their road trip is all. They’ve been reconnecting lately….”

Ellen had heard all about that road trip and how the two men had decided they needed to take some down time for awhile after all they’d been through. It was a sensible decision. Hunters sometimes needed large chunks of downtime to deal with the crap they went through on a daily basis. “You really think they’ll say no to a paying gig?”

Amusement glittered in her eyes. “No, they won’t say no to being paid.” She sighed and reached for the folder. Laying it before her, she scanned the contents. “I’ll call tonight after we finish up interviews. Might as well have all the facts and be sure of them before I talk to them.”

“Then let’s go talk to the next witness. Sooner we get done, the sooner we can get a full team together.”

There was something familiar in those words that niggled at the back of Ellen’s brain and she heard the whisper of a man’s voice saying, “Allies are hard to come by and I can’t think of anyone better to have with us on this than you two.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard a phantom voice. Usually, it was a woman’s voice that spoke to her, the whispers barely there, almost too low to be heard. The first time she’d heard it, she’d thought Gwen was talking to her, but it hadn’t been Gwen at all. It was a piece of forgotten life. Had to be. Fragments of memory teasing her consciousness.

While Ellen waited, there were no more whispers at present, and she put the folder away before following Gwen outside to the car.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean wasn’t listening to reason and it wasn’t the first time, Sam reflected. As soon as he’d realized what Dean had planned, he’d tried to talk him out of it, having terrible visions of Jo royally pissed off.

“That gift is not romantic for a woman, Dean.” Sam took a drink from his glass.

“What are you talking about? It’s very romantic, especially for a woman hunter. Trust me, Sam. She’ll love it.”

“Lingerie is romantic. Candy and flowers are romantic.” He pointed a finger at the bag sitting on the table. “ _That_ is not romantic. It’s a buddy gift. It’s the sort of thing you give Bobby for his birthday, not Jo on Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re wrong, Sammy. I’ve got her figured out.” Dean tapped his temple. “I know how her mind works.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sat back so their server could set their food on the table. “I can see it now. Romantic setting. Handing Jo a pretty gift wrapped box. Her opening it. You being thrown out in the snow for giving her a buddy gift.”

“You have to understand, Sam. Jo’s different….” His glance strayed to the left and to a pretty woman standing at the bar.

“What would Jo say about you ogling that woman?”

He studied her a long minute. “She’d say her boobs are too small, but that she’s got a pretty face.”

“Oh, you think she’d say that, huh?” He raised his brows and cut his chicken in several pieces.

“I know so.”

“Prove it.”

Without a pause, Dean took out his phone and took a picture of the woman. He added a message and held it out to Sam. The message said ‘what do u think?’ Dean sent it.

“You actually sent that.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t wait to see what she says.”

Dean set his phone on the table and reached for his silverware, cutting his steak and pouring a liberal application of steak sauce over the pieces. “As I started to say, Jo’s different. I don’t know what it is, but ever since we got her back…I keep thinking about her. She’s something….”

“Special?”

He didn’t agree or disagree, his expression indicating however that he strongly agreed. “And it’s not that I can’t stop thinking about her either. I can. I just _want_ to think about her.” His phone buzzed and he picked it up. After a minute, he held it out. “I won’t say I told you so.”

Jo’s reply was exactly what Dean had predicted. ‘Boobs 2 small. Pretty though.’

The phone disappeared back into his pocket.

“Okay. So you know her well.” He decided to push on in the logical end of the conversation, see how Dean reacted. “Where are you going to go with it? I mean, Jo isn’t one for a few nights and then you leave her. You know that. She wants more, Dean. Do you want to give her that? Are you willing to?”

To his surprise, Dean’s reply was almost immediate. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. What I do know is that I don’t want to make the same mistakes I made with Lisa.”

Sam sighed, pushing a piece of broccoli about his plate with his fork and debating how to say what he wanted to say. Bluntly was probably best. He thought a part of Dean still didn’t understand how incompatible Lisa had been with their world. Not only had she been a civilian, she’d been a civilian who hadn’t wanted anything to do with their world, least of all with Sam in Dean’s life. Jo didn’t have that problem. She accepted all of Dean, not just the bits she wanted to see. “It’s impossible to make the same mistakes with Jo because she’s not Lisa. She doesn’t have a child and she’s not a civilian. She’s a hunter, raised to know about it all. Jo knows the life, the risks, everything.” He speared one broccoli floret with his fork. “Frankly Dean, you couldn’t pick a better woman than Jo. You want a woman who gets you? She’s right there waiting. What are you waiting for?”

Dean sat back in his chair, staring at him, a strange expression on his face.

“If you want a woman who’ll meet you halfway and give as good as she gets, that’s Jo and I think you’d have to be stupid to let her slip away again. I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“You’ve gotten vocal.”

What sense was there in being discreet about it? Jo wasn’t going to wait around forever. Sure Dean had her now, but if he didn’t make a real move soon she’d move on. She wasn’t going to not live life. Dean had to make up his mind. “Calling it as I see it.” 

He shook his head. “Maybe I don’t intend to let her go.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Sam cautioned.

Dean’s gaze slid to the bag. “Oh, I won’t.”

Sam’s phone rang. It was Gwen and when she was done talking, he told her, “I’ll come. Dean’s busy with something. I’ll leave in an hour or so, be there in a couple days.” He hung up. “There. Looks like fate’s giving you a clear shot at Jo. Gwen wants me to meet up with her and her hunting partner in Massachusetts and work a job. I’ll head out there, you go to Jo, and don’t be stupid.”

“Well, don’t you just have it all planned out. Going to hand me a box of condoms next and tell me to be safe?”

Drawing out his wallet, he pulled out a twenty, flicking it across the table. “Here. Buy some condoms and be safe.”

“You’re getting to be quite the smartass, Sammy.”

“And you love it. Eat your steak, Dean. I have a feeling you’re going to need your strength.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel waited, blade drawn. It was time to take a stand and if he went down, then so be it.

He was going to go down swinging.

Angels appeared. Three, six, ten and more until he was surrounded. Angel after angel appeared, some he recognized and others he didn’t. They didn’t attack immediately and he wondered what they were waiting for. Slowly, the throng parted, revealing the figure walking towards him.

The angel’s vessel was tall, with brown hair and craggy features, his stride confident and slow. It was Uzziel. He stopped a few feet away and slid his hands into his pants pockets, his coat pushed back. It was a casual pose, one that intimated how at ease he was with the world. His brows rose.

“What, no greeting? Hello, Castiel.”

“Uzziel.” His glance darted to the angels surrounding him and back at Uzziel, still surprised there’d been no attack thus far. He would have thought they’d fall upon him quickly and use his death as a paving stone for Raphael’s new world.

“One of us should say something trite and cliché here, like ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment’.”

“You just did,” he pointed out.

“So I did.” Uzziel gestured at him. “Are you really planning to fight us all with one blade?”

“If I have to.”

He smiled. “You have mettle. I like that.” Uzziel sighed. “So what happened, Castiel? You were following me like a good little tracker, heading right towards the meeting I had planned, but then you decided to become difficult. I had to come after _you_.”

“You led me to a dead angel.”

Uzziel waved one hand. “He needed dealt with. If I hadn’t, he would have carried tales to Raphael and I can’t have that.” Taking a step closer, he gestured between them. “ _We_ can’t have that.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve worked very hard to help you and he can’t know I’ve turned one-third of his army against him until it’s too late. You’ve one-third behind you already. With our forces combined, we’re more powerful than he is. Our two-thirds of angels will fell the final third and Raphael will be no more.”

“Then who rules the heavens? You?” A sliver of hope grew inside him. He’d heard whispers that someone close to Raphael was planning to defect, but he hadn’t dared to hope it was true. This had to be a cruel joke.

Uzziel laughed. “Hardly. We, you and I, act as Stewards for God’s return -- that role a few of us were supposed to do to begin with. We watch over what remains, but there’ll be no ruling, merely an effort to organize the way our Father would want.”

“Why? Why join me?”

“Because the price is too steep. If Raphael has his way, there’ll be no one in Paradise because we’re all dead and gone. It’ll be an empty place. Don’t know about you, but I’d rather _enjoy_ Paradise than be a part of the dust that makes it up.” He stepped closer still and Castiel raised his blade, the point nearly touching Uzziel. “You have God on your side, Castiel. It took some doing to get others besides myself to see it, but the evidence is overwhelming. You are favored and there are many who’d rather be with one favored than with another steeped in bitterness who cannot see the hope standing before him. I don’t know why you found favor, but I will stand by you and finish this once and for all. Maybe when He comes home, you can put in a good word for me and my own.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Uzziel knelt in front of him.

“Brother. I’ve come to join you and hereby lay my forces at your feet.”

The angels also knelt and Castiel saw that there were even more there than he’d thought there were.

“Command us.” There was no deceit in Uzziel’s gaze or manner.

He swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that if this was true and real, the end of the war could be far closer than he’d dared to dream.


	14. Chapter 14

Jo’s motel was a nicer place than Dean and Sam usually stayed at, but then she’d been staying here more than a few days. It was good to have a little more comfort when staying awhile. Dean thoroughly studied the place, checking it out, finding all of the nooks and crannies anyone could hide in, and when he’d checked it out completely, he headed for her room, turning the corner just in time to see her close the door and walk down the sidewalk towards the strip of restaurants.

He intended on calling out for her to wait up and didn’t, unsure of just what to say. With a glance at his watch, he frowned. It was a little early for dinner. Was she meeting someone? Going to work? She’d mentioned having gotten a real job to pass the time while taking a break from her search for Ellen.

He hated the thought that she might be going on a date; that another man might touch and kiss her. Jealous, possessive impulses sparked to life in his belly, along with a knot of dread. What if she _was_ meeting someone and he’d misunderstood her completely? Stopping, he took a long cleansing breath and pushed that thought away.

You’re being stupid, he told himself. Jo’s not seeing another guy. She would have said it plain if she was.

While it was bitterly cold out, he waited to go inside, watching through the window until he saw her be seated. He went in to the bar, choosing a place where he could observe her if he craned his neck, and ordered a beer. She appeared to be alone after all, ordering and pulling out a book.

The satisfaction he felt in her sitting there alone was an almost primal zinging thrill inside him. Jo wasn’t meeting anyone. She was here, he was here, and as Sam had suggested, Dean didn’t plan on letting her go again. With a few words to one server, he procured her check and paid it. Dean considered all the sorts of things he could say to her, watching her food come, waiting for her to finish, and when he thought he had his words figured out, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo hated to spend Valentine’s day alone, but really, it was her own fault. She’d had the opportunity to invite Dean to visit her and hadn’t, so she supposed she’d have to suffer the holiday alone and bored. She watched a couple sappy romantic movies on tv before deciding to just go out, get some early dinner alone and ignore the couples that were bound to be everywhere.

She went to the restaurant down the road, a chain place that had a full bar. It wasn’t a surprise that she was able to get a table since she was alone. The surprise was that it was a full booth. There weren’t nearly as many people out as she’d thought there’d be. Maybe the cold was deterring them. Or more likely, it had inspired them all not to leave the house and to stay under covers.

That thought reminded her of the dance she and Dean had been engaged in for the past couple months. All the flirting, the openly suggestive comments…. She was dreaming about him more and more often at night, seriously erotic dreams that left her needing a cold shower when she woke up -- and even that didn’t cool her down some mornings. Maybe it was time to really push for that XXX rating, because while she liked the pursuit, the catching part was equally as fun. They’d spent enough time together now that she knew it wouldn’t be a one-night thing.

Jo made up her mind right then that she was going to let it happen. The next time they were alone, come hell or high water, they were going to have some quality mattress time together. 

She dawdled over her meal, taking her time, reading the latest techno thriller by an author she wasn’t planning to ever buy again. The book bored her, but being surrounded by people was better than being alone in her motel room.

Her phone rang and she picked it up. Hmm. Dean. Jo was starting to wonder if he had some sort of psychic twinge that told him when she was thinking about him. She answered it, closing her book and setting it on the table without marking her page. “Yes?”

“What are you wearing?”

Jo’s brows rose at Dean’s gruff tone. Quite a greeting, that. Beat a plain ‘hi’ all to hell. It was simple, straight to the point. Propping a foot on the seat of the booth across from her, she swirled the last of her beer in the bottle, deciding to be flirtatious. “A g-string and a smile, cowboy.”

“Isn’t that a little awkward in public? Not to mention chilly? I mean, I applaud the bold fashion choice on your part, but is it wise? It’s nearing fifteen degrees and you could get frostbite on the naughty bits, which would be a damn shame.”

She sat up very straight, looking around the crowded restaurant. How did he know it was fifteen degrees here? Or that she was in public? “Dean?” He’d know if he was here. That meant he was here. Somewhere. Her heartbeat quickened.

“Yes?” His tone was silky, making her gut clench in pleasant spasms.

“Where are you?” The last she’d heard, he and Sam were several states away in pursuit of a case. Surely they hadn’t abandoned it so Dean could come here?

“At some cheesy chain restaurant looking for a topless girl wearing only a g-string and a smile. I’d think she’d draw more of a crowd.”

Standing to take a better look around, Jo finally spotted Dean at the bar. He raised his own beer and saluted her. She grinned. “Get your ass over here, Winchester.” She hung up, waiting for him to join her.

Dean smiled as he approached her and hugged her in greeting. Jo was liking this trend, and the way his hands lingered longer each time they met, until his hugs were like warm, comforting cocoons. She went into the embrace willingly, returning it with her body flush to his, her hands in his hair, and face against his neck. She could easily stay against him like this for hours, breathing in the scent of his aftershave, enjoying the strength of his arms about her.

All too soon, he released her.

“Where’s Sam,” she asked as they sat.

“He decided to take a job with Gwen.”

It took seconds to read between the lines. “Told you to get your ass over here, did he?”

He laughed. “That he did. Practically kicked me to get me moving. Topped off the Impala’s tank, tossed some money at me, all the while beaming like a proud daddy sending his boy off into the big wide world. I think if I hadn’t taken his bold hints he would have driven me here himself.”

It pleased her that Sam supported this relationship they had going. Sam’s approval of it meant a lot to her.

“How did you find me?”

“You think I don’t pay attention to where you are these days?”

“I meant that I was eating dinner here.”

“I have my secrets.”

“You followed me, didn’t you?”

“There’s that distinct possibility.” He took a drink of his beer.

Sliding her empty bottle across the table out of the way, she asked in a coy tone, “ _Why_ did you find me?”

“I wanted to.”

She had to smile at that, liking very much that he wanted to find her.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. I couldn’t let you sit alone. What kind of boyfriend would I be then?”

Her smile widened. They’d never said the words boyfriend or girlfriend before to describe what was between them and she felt almost giddy to hear him use that word.

“So I see that smile you mentioned.” His glance drifted down her and back up, a slight lecherous gleam in his eyes. “Where’s that g-string?”

“Where do you think it is?”

“Either on you or off?”

“It’s one of those.”

“What’ll it take to find out?” He crossed his arms on the table edge.

She copied his pose and quirked a brow. “You feelin’ lucky, Dean?”

“Are you?”

Jo laughed, mildly surprised when it came out almost as a giggle, and sat back. “Did you eat yet?”

“Yeah and I already took care of your check.”

“Did you now?”

“I did.” He tapped his bottle on the table a few times. “You want to get out of here? Go somewhere quiet?”

Could she be anything but honest? “Yes.” She wanted to be alone with him more than anything right now.

The walk back to her motel didn’t take long, but instead of going to her room, Dean led her to the Impala, even opening the door for her.

“So,” she began when he’d joined her and started the car, “where are we going?”

He glanced at her, looking strangely shy. Slowly, he reached down to the floor and brought up a wrapped box. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jo.”

He’d gotten her a present. Again. Jo took it and held it on her lap. It was surprisingly heavy.

“You going to open it, or stare at it?”

With a little nervous laugh, Jo tore the paper and slid her thumb under the edge to loosen the tape holding the box closed. What on earth would Dean consider appropriate for Valentine’s Day? She’d enjoyed his Christmas gift, so had no doubt really that she’d like whatever he’d gotten her. Still, knowing him, it could be anything. She spread open the flaps. “Oh, Dean,” she breathed. “And here I was expecting a box of useless slinky, tacky lingerie and chocolates with a brick tossed in to throw me off.” His thoughtfulness stunned her. “This….” She gestured. “This is so much better. I…. Thank you.”

He slid closer, arm along the seat behind her shoulders. “I’ll have you know I argued with Sam about this. He insisted boxes of bullets weren’t a romantic gift.”

“How so?” Jo ran her fingers over the boxes nestled inside the bigger box, her stomach doing tiny flips inside her. He’d bought her something she would have asked for if he’d inquired. A useful gift, unlike the useless other things men gave women this time of year. “They show a sweet concern that I not run out of ammo at the wrong moment and thus remain among the living. Between you and me,” she gestured, “and all things considering, that’s a damned romantic gift.”

“I know, right? I tried to tell him.”

“I think the only thing more romantic right now would be a new gun to go with them.”

Reaching down on the floor, he brought up a case. “Would the one Sam lifted from your apartment and forgot to return to you do?”

Jo held out her hands. “Oh, baby, come to mama!”

“I thought it might,” he said as she opened the case and looked over that gun.

“I’d wondered what happened to it when it wasn‘t in the apartment.”

“I cleaned it up for you. Those bullets are for it.”

She snapped the case closed and turned her head. Her lips parted and she leaned close, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He responded with enthusiasm, arm encircling her shoulders, a hand in her hair. Jo tried to set the gun and box of bullet boxes on the floor and found Dean helping her, shoving them out of the way. Their lips and tongues meshed together in passionate, abandoned kisses. Her mind whirled, the slow jabs of his tongue into her mouth an erotic motion that sent an aching pang of need careening through her body. She turned on the seat, moving onto her knees, Dean grasping her hips and hauling her astride him. His hands didn’t stop for long, reaching for first the zipper on her jacket, then the buttons on her shirt.

Cool air bathed her midsection and Jo drew back. “Whoa. Wait. We’re in the parking lot of my motel. Shouldn’t we just go in?” Her hands were trembling.

Dean blinked. “In would be so good right now,” he replied in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t referring to the room. He squeezed her hips, pressing up against her and groaning before saying, “Zip up. Let’s go.”

It seemed to take ages to reach the door to her room, even though Jo knew it was probably less than a minute. She closed the door behind them, Dean turning her to face him, pressing her to the panel. Jo snaked her arms about his neck, vaguely aware of him fumbling to put the chain on without breaking their continuing string of heated kisses.

Their jackets dropped to the floor. She worked the buttons on his shirt, then shoved it from his shoulders.

Drawing back a fraction, Dean helped her with it before tugging his t-shirt off. Throughout the process, his mouth never left hers for more than a few seconds.

She removed her own shirt, letting it fall next to his. His hands slid along her skin in a sensual caress. Dean’s lips left hers, trailing kisses to her neck. He pressed against her, a shuddering groan leaving him, breath hot on her skin.

“God, Jo….”

She grasped his belt loops.

His hands lowered, gripping her rear and raising her. Jo wrapped her legs around him and returned her arms about his neck. “Are you sure,” he asked. It was a loaded question. Was she sure she wanted to, that it was right, that…. She could see in his eyes that he needed an assurance from her, that he wasn’t going to push forward without one. The sweet concern there almost undid her composure completely.

She touched his cheek, drew her thumb slowly across his lower lip. “Take me to bed, Dean.”

She was ready for this, ready for him, and ready for the next step between them.

“I thought you’d never say ‘yes’,” he confessed.

It was all Jo had ever dreamed it could be and far more at the same time. This moment with him was right and perfect and she never wanted it to end.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’d honestly expected her to say no at the last second and the fact that she hadn’t enflamed him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more in the world than Jo Harvelle. This wasn’t only about sex. It was about realizing that he liked the man he was with her and wanted to be that man all the time; about knowing that if she hadn’t been brought back, something special would have been forever gone from his life.

Sam was right.

Jo was a helluva woman and Dean knew that wherever they went together, it’d never get in the way of him and Sam because Jo understood about it all. She knew what Sam meant to him and she liked Sam herself. They got along well. This, _this_ , was something that could actually work and he was all the better for it. Joy sang inside him, traversing his veins.

His feelings for her welled up, but he wasn’t quite ready to say what he felt, so he showed her instead. Every kiss, every caress, every movement of his body against hers. He treasured her, enjoyed her, and did his best to show her that she was far more than a passing desire. No matter what happened, she’d always be more to him.

Dean needed Jo. On an emotional level and a physical level, he needed her with him.

That need felt good, one tiny bit of delight in life rekindling within him.

He felt almost like he was being born anew in slow stages, rising whole from the wreckage of his former life, shedding it like a useless shell. A phoenix. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Uzziel was serious.

Castiel was having trouble wrapping his mind around that. After so many bitter crushing disappointments, he couldn’t quite believe he now had a full army behind him and a real shot at ending the war for good. He thought he might finally believe it after the fact.

“When Raphael gives the call, they’ll join him as he expects, dispersing themselves throughout the remains of his army and putting themselves in a position to take down his forces at your signal. I, however, will stand at your side. By now, he will have heard of my defection. Is that acceptable?”

He nodded. If Uzziel was playing him, it didn’t really matter if it was or not.

Uzziel smiled. “I’m getting the idea that you might not trust me, Castiel.”

“Whatever gave you that notion?”

He sighed. “I don’t blame you, actually. I’d be a mite suspicious were I you. But I don’t aim to betray you. I just want this done with minimal damage. We’ll do our best for you. Just say the word.”

They’d head out for battle soon. He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation, and was glad he’d said his goodbye to Dean, because he could go to the battle ready for whatever would come.

Uzziel made a small motion at the waiting angels. “You should give them some encouraging words about now,” he prompted.

“I don’t give speeches, Uzziel.”

“You _should_. Troops like that. Gets them fired up for battle.”

“I’m not a leader,” Cas protested. “I’m not good with speeches.”

His mildly amused stare was strangely intense as well. Castiel was discomfited by it the same way he’d been when Lucifer had looked at him in that cemetery after he’d fireballed Michael. Uzziel was seeing a truth inside him that he didn’t want to admit to himself -- that God had chosen him of all angels to attempt to restore order because, like it or not, beneath it all he _was_ a leader. It was a heavy responsibility he didn’t truly want, made worse by Raphael’s war. That stare made Cas wonder if this was how his own stare had made Dean feel. He imagined, no he _knew_ it was.

“Do you truly not see it,” Uzziel mused softly. “You’re a trailblazer, Castiel. Over time, we’ve become stagnant, mired in our own bitterness, jealousies, and old ways, a thing that Raphael embodies quite clearly. You, however, have changed things up. You’ve shown us there is hope of a return to glory and peace. We don’t have to continue to be what we’ve become.” He shook his head. “In truth, the best leaders are usually those with no desire for the job.” With one hand, he made another motion at the angels. “Now go give them some encouraging words.”

Obviously, Uzziel didn’t understand that Castiel lacked the cheerful, bloodthirsty enthusiasm needed to get the troops fired up at present. With reluctance, he decided to give it a try -- since Uzziel seemed to expect a good effort at it. Turning to the waiting angels, he cleared his throat. “We go to battle today, probably to die. Fight well.”

There was a silence then that he realized was puzzled. Eyes turned to Uzziel, who leaned over. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

“No.”

“You really are bad at speeches.” A hand gripped Castiel’s shoulder. “We win this, we get you a speechwriter.”

“That could be wise,” he conceded with a wince, though he wondered why he’d need one if they won. Why would he have to give speeches?

Uzziel faced the army, raising one arm high. “To hope,” he shouted.

“Is this absolutely necessary,” he muttered.

“Trust me,” Uzziel told him as the angels began to use that as their rallying cry, voices lifting loud and high into the air. “A little encouragement goes a long way. Be good to your soldiers --”

“And they’ll be good to you,” he finished. Feeling a bit awkward and stupid, he raised one arm the same way Uzziel was. “To hope.”

A trumpet sounded then, an invitation from Raphael to come if they were brave enough.

A call to battle.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean woke with a jerk, thinking he’d heard something outside. Not a car horn or intruder trying to break in, but something…different. Deep and ominous. He listened carefully, but whatever it had been didn’t come again and he stretched. Maybe he’d been dreaming that noise. 

As he turned over, a pleased smile curved his lips. 

He was more relaxed than he’d been in a very long time. Waking up beside Jo was definitely an experience Dean wanted more of. He enjoyed opening his eyes and seeing her there, her features relaxed in sleep, hair fanned out on the pillow. There was a sereneness about it that calmed him and he decided he could lie there for hours simply watching her.

Stretching out a hand, he traced her features with a gentle touch -- the curve of her jaw, her lips, the slope of her nose -- then brushed her hair from her brow. It was a bit tangled, a sexy mussed look she did well.

Jo stirred, frowning, opening her eyes. He drew his hand back. She stretched, back arching, the covers sliding down. When she was done, she turned her head on the pillow. Her slow smile was both sleepy and satisfied. “Mmmm. Morning.”

He let his gaze drift down her and back up, pausing on the creamy expanse of bare skin revealed by the bunched covers. She did that whole naked thing very well. “Looks to be a good one so far.”

Rolling onto her side, she moved closer, hand sliding down his chest and lower, gaze mischievous. “How about we make it a great morning?”

“I aim to please.”

It was mid-morning when they finally emerged from Jo’s room to get breakfast, walking fast together in the frigid morning air. This area was having a record February cold snap, colder than it had been in a century.

So much for global warming, he thought, reaching for Jo’s hand.

Fingers linked together, they made their way to the family restaurant a couple streets over. It wasn’t busy and soon their order was put in, cups of coffee before them. They sat on the same side of the table, Jo snug against his side. Dean knew he was grinning like a fool and didn’t particularly care.

“What’s Gwen working on,” Jo asked, stirring her coffee with a spoon.

“No idea. Something she wanted us in on, though.”

“And you came here instead.”

“It was Valentine’s Day,” he told her in way of explanation.

Her hand dropped to his thigh. “I’m glad you did.” She settled back in the booth, leaning her head back against his arm.

“I am, too.” They talked while waiting for their food, making plans for the day. He figured he had several days before Sam called to say he was done and heading back his way. Several days should be enough time for them to figure out how they were going to work this new development into something regular. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had a good feeling about Dean and Jo’s get-together. At the rate the two had been going, how could it be anything but a fun time for both of them? He didn’t rush in his drive across to Massachusetts, mainly because Gwen’s request hadn’t evoked a sense of urgency. If she’d needed him there within hours, she would have said so. He took time to eat regular meals and rest. He thought that maybe some day he’d be back to his old habits completely, able to sleep a full night and eat a full meal, but for now, he took what he could get.

He had some trouble finding the motel Gwen and her partner were staying it. It was somewhat off the beaten path. Not a bad place, he decided with a glance, and knocked on the door.

Gwen opened it and let him in.

He was unprepared for who he found when he walked into that motel room. 

Ellen Harvelle.

Sam stood still, staring, trying to find the words to say to the woman who’d sometimes behaved like a mother to him and Dean. Relief swept over him, followed quickly by pleasure in seeing her alive. She looked good. A little older of course, but fit and well.

While he’d been staring at her, she’d been doing the same to him. Ellen got up from her chair and approached him, the tiniest of frowns pulling her brows down. “Do I know you?”

He ended up laughing and laughing harder at the perplexed looks Gwen and Ellen gave him. When he’d finished, and wiped the tears from his eyes, he shook his head. “Oh, Ellen. You have no idea.” Sam wanted to enfold her in a hug, yet knew he shouldn’t until she knew who he was. She might react badly to affection from a man she didn’t seem to know.

“Enlighten us, Sam,” Gwen suggested, crossing her arms.

“Ellen, do you have any idea who I am?”

She shook her head. “Not a clue, sweetie. You want to tell me?”

“What do you remember? Anything?”

Her sigh was long and mildly annoyed, as though she’d answered that question too many times already. 

It was Gwen who answered. “The amnesiac I mentioned awhile back? I was referring to Ellen.”

“You called him about me,” Ellen asked, though she didn’t appear upset by the prospect.

Gwen shrugged. “I tossed a scenario out there to see if Sam had any ideas. He and Dean have come up against more weird shit than anyone I know. I thought they might have an idea what might have done that to you.”

He motioned to the door. “I need to make a phone call real quick.” Stepping outside, he dialed Dean’s number. Things would have been much simpler if he, Dean, and Jo had arranged a get-together with Gwen and her hunting partner weeks ago.

He couldn’t wait to hear Dean’s reaction.


	15. Chapter 15

When Dean had chosen that particular ring for his phone, he’d never considered how annoying it could be after ten minutes. “It’ll go to voicemail,” he murmured, swirling his tongue along Jo’s bikini line. Her skin was so soft…. He wanted to rub his cheek against her belly and did, savoring every last second of this time with her. She was well worth the wait.

But the phone didn’t go to voicemail. It would stop ringing and start right up again. Who the hell was calling him over and over? Couldn’t they get the hint that he was busy?

Jo squirmed beneath him. “I think you’d better get that,” she told him, stretching out an arm and snagging his phone from the nightstand. She glanced at it before handing it to him. “It’s Sam.” She laid back against the pile of pillows, resuming her previous position.

With a put-upon sigh, he answered it. “What, Sam? What? _What_? I’m in the middle of something here.” He traced tiny circles on Jo’s thighs. Definitely in the middle….

“Um…Dean? What took you so long? You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. I found Ellen.”

He sat up. “You what? How?”

Jo sat up as well, running a hand along his chest and ribs. “What’s wrong,” she whispered.

“Actually, it was Gwen who found her. I just showed up to help like Gwen asked and here she is. It’s Ellen alright, but she’s…it’s like she has amnesia, Dean. Remember Gwen called awhile back about a case she was working? Guy with amnesia? Well, it wasn’t a guy, it was Ellen. Her long term memories from ‘09 back are blank. She can’t access them if they’re even there, but they _must_ be because she’s been hunting with Gwen.”

“We’ll be there in a couple days.” He hung up, a grin forming as he looked at Jo. “I think Sam’s courting you, Jo, because he just got you a gift that makes mine look cheap and tacky.”

“What?”

“He found Ellen.”

Joy shone on her face and with it was a ton of anxiety. She moved onto her knees, hands resting on his chest. “In what condition?”

“Like she has amnesia.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “She’s hunting Jo. She’s hunting with Gwen. Has been for awhile.”

She moved, hurrying from the bed and moving towards the bathroom, tripping on the covers in her haste and nearly running headlong into the dresser. “I need a shower.”

“Slow down,” he cautioned her, getting up from the bed and following her. “Can’t see your mom if you split your skull open. Sam’s there with her. She’s not going anywhere.”

“I need to see her, Dean. I need to…. She’s alive!” She turned, grasping his arms. “Alive, as in really alive and it’s not a pipe dream. I have my mother back and I have to shower so we can leave and…I won’t make you fly…we can drive….” Jo released him and went into the bathroom, muttering to herself.

She didn’t understand. How did he tell her not to get her hopes up that Ellen would even know her? “Jo.” He stepped into the bathroom, reaching for her, stopping her nervous activity by taking her hands in his. “Come here.”

“We don’t have time --”

“She has amnesia.”

“She --” A puzzled expression crossed her face. “I know. You said.”

“Gwen talked to Sam a long while about it once without giving a hint she was talking about Ellen. She’s not in the same condition you were. There’s no indication that seeing you will make it all come back. Seeing you, looking at that picture book…it might not do a damn thing.”

“But there’s no indication it won’t not work. We won’t know until we try. Dean, I know I might not get her _back_ back immediately, but as long as she’s there, alive and well, it’s a start. It’s something I can work with.”

“You’re prepared for that?”

She tugged her hands free from his, cupping his face, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks. “Sweetheart, I knew when I started looking for her that I might have a long hard road ahead of me. Finding her is only the start of that journey.”

He grasped her hips, drawing her closer. Maybe she did understand after all. “I’ll get you to her. Promise. Just…try not to crack your head open between now and then?”

“Take all the fun out of my day why don’t you?” She pulled away and started the shower.

Dean let her shower without him in with her, though he wanted to join her. It’d be better for his libido if she showered first and alone. To pass the time, he took out fresh clothes for himself and packed up as well as he could, leaving her things for Jo to pack. It’d give her something to do while he showered.

She was done in minutes, leaving the water on for him. It had amused him earlier to discover they liked their shower the same temperature.

By the time he emerged, she was sitting on the end of the bed, packed, and with her coat and shoes on. “You know, you can take ten minutes to dry your hair,” he told her.

“I braided it. It’ll dry on the drive. You’re not going to shave, are you?” She made it sound as though doing so was unreasonable.

He hadn’t planned on it. “Do you want me to?”

“Not if it’s going to take you more than a minute or two.”

“Then, no, I’m not shaving.” Dean dropped his towel and reached for his clothes.

“Good, let’s go.”

“Can I get dressed first, or would you prefer me to drive naked?”

She mulled over the question like it was a serious query. “I’d prefer you naked, but I suppose the authorities might frown on that. Besides,” her grin was lop-sided, “you might get frostbite on the naughty bits and that’d be a damn shame.” His own words tossed back at him.

“She’s not going anywhere, Jo.” He got dressed, not exactly taking his time, but not hurrying either. “Sam won’t let her. He’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I realize that, but the sooner we get there, the sooner I see her myself.”

Actually, she was being more patient than he’d thought she’d be. Within five minutes, he was dressed. Jo came to him, wrapping her arms around him. The kiss she pressed to his mouth was warm and she took a moment to do some groping that made him long for awhile longer on the bed with her.

Jo drew back, smiling. “Mmm. When we stop for the night….” Her glance promised a continuation of their morning’s activities. 

“You don’t want to drive all the way through?”

“Want to, yes. Need to, yes. But you and I both know my mother, Dean. I’d rather be rested up to deal with her in whatever shape she’s in, capiche?” She patted his chest with a hand. “Now, let’s pack the car and leave Dodge.”

Jo had a point. Ellen could be a handful and with what they had to tell her about the two of them? Yeah, it would be best if they were well rested beforehand. Ellen had never wanted a hunter for Jo and that was exactly what had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

It took longer than Sam had hoped for Dean to answer the phone, Gwen joining him outside, waiting while he explained to Dean and hung up. “Dean’ll tell Jo. That’s her daughter.”

“Wait, Sam…. You know her? I mean, _know_ her as in know her well?” Gwen’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“Dean and I both do. She and Jo are close friends. Well, they were. Are. It’s complicated to explain.”

Gwen put her hands on her hips and huffed out a breath. “You know I used to think nothing ever really exciting happened in this family. Everything was all neat. We hunted and that was it, but then you, Samuel, and Dean came along and suddenly everything I knew got tangled. Dead people were back to life as though they’d never died. I’ve seen Alpha creatures of all kinds and helped capture them. I worked with a soulless cousin who managed to get his soul back. I’ve unknowingly and knowingly worked for a demon and also met an angel. What _isn’t_ complicated these days, Sam?”

He laughed. “Welcome to the Winchester side of my life, Gwen. Throw in being an angelic vessel for an archangel and you’ve got my every day life.”

She jerked her chin towards the door to the room. “So what’s her deal then?”

“You want the CliffsNotes version or something a little more fleshed out?”

“Fleshed out would be nice, since I never seem to get that from anyone.”

He nodded, able to sympathize with that. “Dean and I met Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo back when they were running Harvelle’s Roadhouse. Ellen’s husband -- Jo’s dad -- was a hunter before he died and the Roadhouse was a place where hunters frequently came through.”

“The name’s familiar, but I never went there. It burned down or something a few years ago, didn’t it?”

“Blew up, actually. Jo set out on her own to hunt, Ellen eventually caught up with her, and we all came together for a big job, thought we were going to shoot Lucifer with the Colt and have it all done quickly.” He put his hands in his pockets and turned his attention to the ground. “Ellen and Jo both died in ‘09. That’s when we went on that foolish job that got us nothing but two dead friends and a realization that Lucifer was one of five things the Colt won’t kill.”

“How did they die?” Her voice was hushed.

“A hellhound got Jo in the side and we were trapped. Jo came up with a plan, a good plan, and we…” He cleared his throat, not wanting to verbalize the rest. His throat felt thick, the words hard to get out. “Ellen chose to stay there. Jo’d lost the use of her legs and couldn’t move, but she knew what had to be done. They sacrificed themselves by letting the hellhounds in the store we were in and blowing it up while Dean and I escaped.”

“Wow. Heroes.” 

Sam took a breath and blew it back out again. Even knowing Jo and Ellen were both alive again didn’t take away the pain of that day. It still affected him. “An angel brought them back to use them against us. He gave them planted memories to make them think we were human monsters. Another angel, who wants to start the Apocalypse back up, wanted to neutralize them by removing those memories and leaving them without knowledge of who they were. Wanted to anyway. Guess he already somewhat did with Ellen, though Castiel said the plan was to neutralize them and keep them from hunting. So why is Ellen hunting?”

Gwen shrugged. “More dead rising. You, Samuel --”

“I think technically they could count as the first, since Zachariah raised them not long after they died.”

“Swell. Where’s this Jo you mentioned?”

He glanced at his watch. “Probably in the Impala right now blaring the horn to get Dean to hurry up so they can get here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaning over, Jo laid on the horn again. “Ass in gear, Winchester!”

Dean leaned in through the open window and plucked her hand off the horn. “Do that one more time and I tie you up and toss you in the backseat.”

“We don’t have time for fun and games. Hurry up!”

“Can I at least do a final sweep of the room? Or are you in too much of a hurry to make sure we’ve got all of our guns?”

“Fine. Five minutes and then I drive away and leave your ass.”

“You don’t have the keys.”

“Wanna bet on that?” Jo held up Dean’s keychain. It’d been too easy to lift them from his pocket. “I was doing more than groping you romantically, sweetheart.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Leaning over further, she glanced towards the floor and mused, “I’ll have to adjust the seat….”

“Damn it,” he muttered and disappeared back into the room.

Jo sat back up, grinning. She wouldn’t actually do it, but it got him moving.

Her mother was alive and well! She wanted to suggest flying out there, but wanted Dean with her when she finally saw Ellen again. Jo wanted him and Sam both there, at least for the beginning of the memory journey they were going to go down. The fact that Sam had actually found her mother wasn’t going to feel real to Jo until she saw Ellen with her own eyes.

She’d told Dean that she knew it was going to be a long road, but Jo hoped it wouldn’t be. She hoped that Ellen would take one look at her, hold out her arms, and enfold her in a hug like they’d never been dead at all.

Dean got in and started the car. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah.”

In her lap, she held that photo album, looking through it as Dean drove, telling him stories about the pictures and things she remembered. By the time night came, he had a full history of the Harvelle family and Jo’s emotions were in turmoil. He held her while she cried and when the tears faded, he made her feel like she was the only woman in the world to exist for him.

It was what she needed right then.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen went to the window, peering outside at Sam and Gwen, thoughtful. She knew that boy. He was one of those hazy ghost images she got in her head when Gwen talked about her cousins. Apparently, he knew her well if the expression on his face was any indication: excitement barely held in check, like a little kid fixin’ to unwrap a gift. It seemed to her that someone had been looking for her. What else could that phone call be about?

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Who’d been trying to find her and was it a good or bad thing that she didn’t remember the person?

They returned inside and Ellen crossed her arms. “So? Who needed to know so urgently that I’m here?”

Sam and Gwen exchanged a glance before Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you, Ellen, but believe me, I’d like to.”

“Why on God’s green earth should I believe you? Who are you to me that you can ask me to trust you? You’re a hunter, boy. Hunters have got to earn my trust.”

Gwen stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Ellen, Sam told me who he called and a little about the situation. You want to trust him.”

“Trust is earned,” she repeated.

“He and Dean earned your trust a hundred times and more over the time you’ve known them.”

“Gwen, don’t,” Sam warned. “You could --”

“I’m not going to elaborate, Sam, but she needs to know something. Just…shush.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Trust me.”

With a sigh, he shook his head and took his coat off.

Ellen raised her brows. “You were sayin’?”

“Sam and Dean are like sons to you. You helped them out, hunted with them…. They’re like family to you.”

Transferring her gaze back to Sam, Ellen studied him. “He know why my memory is gone?”

“He does, but the person he called should be here when we talk about it just in case your memory comes rushing back. You’re going to want that person here. If you won’t trust Sam, and I fully understand why you wouldn’t at this point, will you trust me?”

She pursed her lips. Gwen had earned her trust these long weeks they’d been working together. Ellen trusted Gwen to have her back in sticky situations. Therefore, if Gwen said she could trust Sam, she could trust Sam. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait. How long until this mysterious person I’ve got to see gets here?”

“Couple days, tops.” Sam set his coat down on the end of the bed. “Especially with Dean driving. He’s just as eager to see you as J….” He broke off before saying the name.

“Yes, Sam?” Ellen uncrossed her arms, hands moving to her hips. “What was that?”

“This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“Things usually are,” Ellen commented. “Well, if I’ve got a couple of days, then let’s talk about the job. We’ve got a paying gig, Sam, and I don’t mind splitting the rather generous fee three ways.”

They settled at a table, Ellen explaining the situation to him. “A friend of mine came across an object in her mother’s attic, a Pandora’s box if you will. It’s a pretty box, part of a local legend. Legend is that a foreign couple moved in, were accused of witchcraft, and hanged, then when their ghosts showed up, upset at being murdered, they were trapped in this box. It was added to the local historical museum. However, some drunken yahoo thought it’d be a good idea to prove it was all bunk and opened the box, releasing the ghosts. He lived long enough to be proven wrong. They’re rightfully pissed off after having been imprisoned and are murdering the descendants of the families that accused them. The reason we need muscle is that neither of us has any desire to end up in the hospital with back problems trying to move the stone slabs in place over the graves.”

“Backhoe,” Sam suggested.

“Sensible,” Ellen agreed, “if the graves were in a cemetery. They’re out on the back forty of the family acreage, surrounded by thicket and all sorts of problems getting to them.”

Gwen snickered. “You should have seen us, Sam, turning the air blue while crawling across a stream on a fallen tree, praying we wouldn’t fall and break something. I actually _did_ fall once, lost my sunglasses out of my pocket into the water.”

“It’s going to be a bear getting tools back there to take care of this. The only good thing is that they’re only killing every five days instead of every day.”

“Nice to look on the bright side, Ellen.” Sam crossed his arms on the table top. “Basically, what you want me for is a pack mule and slave.”

“Basically,” they both agreed.

He laughed. “Well, I see why Gwen didn’t elaborate much on the phone. Are we sure they’re ghosts and not a type of demon?”

“Absolutely,” Gwen said.

“Then let’s go.”

While Ellen was determined not to really trust Sam yet, something about him just engendered trust and she found herself falling into an easy banter with him as they trudged across Sally Wainthright’s property. In the back of her mind was the thought that Dean was the smartass one, while Sam was quieter. Where that thought came from she wasn’t sure, though it did seem to support the assertion that she knew the two well.

“How did you meet Gwen,” he asked, hefting the bag of tools on his shoulder. “She never said. Hedged about the question more than anything.”

She glanced at Gwen, ahead of them on the path, hacking at underbrush and swearing just as imaginatively as she had the first time they’d come this way. It was odd. The brush looked like an even worse tangle than it had before, like they’d never come through here at all. “She stalked me, or thought she was. I knew she was there, unlike when I did the same to….” Ellen broke off, a memory pushing at her mind, hazy, indistinct, and so close to forming fully that she felt a burst of frustration when it refused to coalesce into something clear.

“To who?” He glanced at her.

“Hell if I know,” she admitted. “I followed someone and…he?…no….” Ellen took the hand Sam held out to help her step over a log. “She. She didn’t know I was there. Surprised her. It convinced her she wasn’t as observant as she’d thought she was.” That was right, wasn’t it? “Don’t ask me who it was. That’s all I got at present.”

“That happen often? Memories coming back in bits, I mean.”

“Happens now and then. I’ll get these ghost images in my mind or even whispers. Voices. One of those voices was yours, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yup. Funny. I hadn’t realized it until just now.”

“Hey Ellen,” came Gwen’s voice from around the bend in the path she’d made. “We’re here. Is it just me or are those slabs even bigger today than when we were out here the other day?”

She scrutinized them. Oddly enough, Gwen was right. They did look bigger. “Trick of the light?” At this point, it wouldn’t surprise Ellen if there really was some sort of witchcraft going on besides the initial bit that had imprisoned the two ghosts.

“Those are big slabs,” Sam agreed, setting down the bag of tools. “Maybe we should wait for Dean after all.”

Ellen patted Sam’s back with one hand. “You’re young. Give it a try. But…hurry if you can. Somehow,” she cast a glance at the eerily silent woods around them, “I don’t think we want to be out here after dark.”

Though her words could have indicated she wasn’t going to help, Ellen did help, getting right in there with Sam and Gwen in shifting the slabs and praying this went as smoothly as they all hoped it would.

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite having less numbers than he’d assumed, Raphael wasn’t making the fight an easy one. The angels remaining in his numbers were not as easy to kill as Uzziel had made it sound. They were having to fight hard for every small victory.

Castiel made Raphael his objective. He fought his way towards him, noting in a somewhat detached way that Raphael seemed gleeful to be dispatching brothers and sisters into death’s arms, grinning as he worked his way through the army.

It was disturbing.

The battle was a whirlwind of frenzied activity around him. At times it was difficult to distinguish friend from foe.

It took a surprisingly quick amount of time to cross the distance between Raphael and himself. To his right, he saw Uzziel deep in conflict with three soldiers and returned his full attention to Raphael. He was going to need it.

They danced about in the midst of the armies, Raphael gaining ground, then Castiel, back and forth. He didn’t have a clear shot, although in consolation, neither did Raphael. Castiel fought hard, pushing himself like he never had before. Now, it had to end, now. Here, today. He moved forward, arm swinging, sword clanging against Raphael’s sword.

In a heart-stopping second, that meeting of blades sent a jarring numbness through his fingers and Castiel’s sword was wrenched from his hand, dropping through the air to the ground out of reach. He fell hard to his knees. Triumph lit Raphael’s gaze.

No, he thought. Oh no….


	16. Chapter 16

“Castiel!”

He heard Uzziel’s frantic hiss, but didn’t dare look away from Raphael. Madness glittered in Raphael’s eyes. Was this how he was going to end? On his knees before an insane brother?

“Any last words before I end you, boy?” Raphael raised his arm, ready to plunge the sword down.

He heard more than saw the sword sliding across the ground towards him. If he missed grabbing it…. “For hope,” he said, reaching blindly, grasping the hilt just as the sword would have slid right past him and thrusting it upward without thinking what he was doing or if it would even work. He wasn’t sure who was more shocked, himself or Raphael, by that miracle of timing. The resulting burst of light was blinding and then Raphael’s vessel dropped lifeless to the ground.

Castiel’s hands shook and all around him he heard the sounds of Raphael’s remaining army surrendering. He felt like he might even throw-up, a thing he’d discovered was rather unpleasant after he’d once downed the alcoholic contents of a liquor store.

Over. It was over. After so long….

He remained kneeling, overcome with relief while his own army slowly regained a semblance of order around him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Uzziel pushed up from the ground and surveyed the battlefield.

They’d won. They’d actually won. He was in a bit of shock from that.

He looked at Castiel, still kneeling by the crumpled form of Raphael’s last vessel. Castiel hadn’t wanted these deaths any more than Uzziel did. He even regretted Raphael’s death. It was plain in how Castiel looked at that vessel.

Or maybe he was regretting the death of the human. Whichever, there was regret present.

Now, there was heaven to genuinely put back together. It was going to be easier without Raphael and his followers. In slow strides, Uzziel stepped to Castiel, hearing sounds all around of brothers and sisters accepting their fate. Raphael’s army, the ones who’d refused to consider a different outcome than that which Raphael wanted, was soon to be no more. One by one, the angels were eliminated. It was a harsh thing to kill all of the enemy and not leave a single one standing, but it was how to win a war and especially how they had to end _this_ one. They couldn’t have another uprising. Heaven wouldn’t survive.

He crouched down beside Castiel. “He’d gone insane, Castiel. You know that. You had to. There wasn’t any way he’d listen to reason.”

“The archangels are all gone, Uzziel. The highest class of angels basically extinct. Michael and Lucifer down in the cage, Raphael and Gabriel dead. Your class is the highest now.” 

“And you.”

“Me?” He stood and Uzziel stood as well. “I’ve not gained that much in power. You’re still --”

“That’s not what I mean. Look at yourself, Castiel. You’re a puzzle to most of us. You proved that we have a free will every bit as strong as humans. You did what you thought was right when no other would join you and stood your ground. You’re intelligent, curious, friendly with humans, a leader, favored by God above other angels. How many of us has God raised once, let alone twice and gifted with additional powers? You’re in a new class, one that didn’t exist before you. Think about it. No other angel has your unique combination of powers and traits. You’re in a class all your own. You’re special.”

Castiel shuddered, then bent and pulled the sword from the body. “I dislike that word.” With a shake of his head, he turned from the dead vessel and began to work his way across the field of battle. “Dean and Sam Winchester were special and look what it got them. I told Jimmy Novak he was special and where is he? His daughter -- where is she? Special.” He spat the word out as though it had a bad taste. “It’s a word that ultimately means terrible responsibility.”

“Okay, gifted. Extraordinary. Singular. Unique. Exceptional.”

“Must you list the synonyms?”

“Surely one them is acceptable to describe yourself?”

He glanced at Uzziel and looked away, making his refusal to continue the conversation obvious. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time to discuss the difference between Castiel and other angels. Uzziel made a mental note to pick up that conversation at a later date as Castiel said, “Do you realize this is the first moment we’ve not been at war in a very long time?”

“Yes. It’s a new day for us. No Paradise, but I can live with that if we’re at peace with each other. Some day, our Father will return. I believe it’ll be sooner rather than later. After all, he’s been active in your recent existence when we’d thought he was long gone and uncaring. That’s another thing you proved, Castiel. Our Father still does care about us and about those humans down there.” He slid his hands into his jacket and sighed. “I see big changes on the wind up here. Let’s finish up and then sit down together. I’ve a few ideas I think you might approve of.”

They surveyed the field from where they were, looked to where they were needed most in these last moments, and moved forward together to tie up the last ends of the battle. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The second slab moved from the grave inch by slow inch. Gwen, Sam, and Ellen were all muddy, bloody, bruised, and cursing by then, each keeping an eye on the time and the sky. As they’d worked, clouds had gathered above them, dark clouds obliterating the bright sunshine and making the temperature drop. The slab shifted the last tiny bit and from the woods around them came a low mournful howl.

It could have been the wind. It wasn’t, but it could have been -- if Sam was deluding himself. “Um…Ellen?” Sam straightened. That sound couldn’t be good.

She reached for a shovel. “Dig, Sam. I doubt we’ve much time.” She moved to help Gwen, who was working on the first grave. “Damn, I’m going to hurt for the next two weeks, if not longer.”

Sam worked as fast as he could, casting a glance at his watch. “What time did you say the ghosts kill?”

“Just after sunset,” Gwen replied with a grunt.

He pushed himself harder. Ellen was right. They didn’t have much time.

Dirt flew as they dug, finally reaching the bones as twilight became night.

Two very pissed off ghosts came upon them in a rush of wind and a howl that was less mournful and far more irate than earlier.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean was asleep and Jo couldn’t drift off. Her tears were gone, with not even a headache remaining. She rolled onto her back and sighed. It had been a delightfully blissful couple hours with him, moments that made her feel as though everything really would work out in the end. Dean made her feel loved and cherished. He managed that with simply a glance or quick kiss. 

Now however, she was worrying about her mother and what they’d find when they reached Massachusetts. If only she’d been able to drift to sleep like he had.

Jo got up from the bed, taking the top sheet with her, and dug her phone out of her coat pocket. Maybe she’d make a quick call to Sam…. She dialed and waited, wrapping the sheet about her and frowning when the call went to voicemail. 

“Sam, it’s Jo. Dean and I have stopped for the night and I need to talk to you about my mom. Call me.” 

Hanging up, she set the phone on the table and reached for her bag, pulling out a mystery novel she’d been trying to slog through. It had a catchy title and interesting blurb on the back, but she absolutely hated the main character and kept hoping someone would murder the obnoxious nosy twit. She sat down and opened the book, yet found herself picking up the phone again after only five minutes.

“Sam, hi, it’s Jo again. It’s really important that you call me, okay? Thanks.”

Dean shifted position on the bed, but didn’t wake.

She returned the book to her bag and decided one of Dean’s shirts would be a better choice of cover-up than the sheet. Jo opened his bag and was immediately confronted with the cover of ‘Busty Asian Babes’. The magazine was right on top. With a quick glance to make sure Dean wasn’t actually awake and watching, she flipped through the magazine, pausing on one picture halfway through. “Those are so totally fake,” she murmured. “I’ll bet they don’t even move when she jumps up and down.” Jo closed the magazine, carefully returned it, and grabbed the top shirt, a button-down that had seen better days. She slipped it on, and buttoned three of the buttons. It was soft and very comfortable from repeated washings.

Surely more than a couple minutes had passed? Why hadn’t Sam called back yet?

Snatching the phone back up, Jo dialed again, leaving a third message and, as time passed, several more messages. She occupied herself flipping through channels, pacing, compulsively checking her phone for missed calls despite holding it in her hand and checking her email in case Sam had emailed instead of calling. Her impatience grew. Where the hell was he and what was he doing?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ellen!” Sam hurdled over a fallen log in an attempt to be beneath her as she fell from the tree branch she’d been suspended up against and didn’t make it. She hit the ground hard, lifted her head a fraction, lowered it, and went still. Oh crap, Sam thought. We got Ellen killed! He knelt, reaching for her only to be thrown back from her. He slammed into a tree, screaming in pain as his shirt shredded and scratches appeared on his chest, stomach, and side.

A man appeared, his grin sadistic and pleased.

A woman’s form materialized over Ellen, straddling her and grasping a handful of her hair.

“Come on, you bitches!” Gwen yelled, “It’s me you want to worry about!” She held up a lighter, flicked it, and cursed a blue streak when it didn’t light. Gwen shook it, made a triumphant noise when it lit. She set the pile of bones in the hole beside her on fire, moving to the other grave and pulling another lighter from her pocket.

The woman standing over Ellen was gone with a scream, but the man…. He left Sam, turning his attention to Gwen. He grasped her by the throat, squeezing. Gwen gasped for breath, the lighter falling to the ground as she attempted to pry the spirit’s hands from her. Sam ignored his own pain and pushed from the tree towards her, diving for the ground and the lighter. Gwen thrashed in increasingly weak movements, body beginning to sag towards the ground. 

Sam found the lighter. With a quick flick, he’d lit the bones on fire and Gwen was dropping to the ground, choking and gasping, chest heaving as she pulled in air. She flung a hand out and found his hand, squeezing it.

“Thank you,” she said, though it came out more like ‘an oo’.

“You okay?” He waited for her nod before making his painful way to Ellen. She was stirring, moaning, but thankfully very much alive.

They were going to have a long trek back to the car.

~~~~~~~~~~

The drive back to the motel was punctuated by Ellen’s groans through gritted teeth and Sam’s occasional hiss of pain. It would have been easier on all of them if those graves hadn’t been way out in the middle of nowhere. Gwen had alternated between helping Ellen hobble along the path they’d cut on the way out there and steadying Sam, ignoring her own aches and pains.

She parked as close as she could to their door and hurried to open it while Sam and Ellen helped each other into Ellen’s room.

Ellen dropped onto the bed face first. “I’m too old to dig up graves,” she moaned.

“You want us to go in my room so you can shower,” Gwen inquired, stripping off her coat and dropping it to the floor just inside the connecting door to her room. She was going to have to head to the Laundromat and do a load of laundry. Her coat was a mess, her jeans, her shoes…everything.

“I’ll just take everything in with me.” Ellen swept an arm out and yelped. “Crud, my shoulder hurts!”

Gwen motioned at the table and chairs. “Sit down, Sam, I’ll stitch you up.” She reached for the first aid kit and took it to him, opening it up. “Don’t be shy, cous. Strip off the shirt so I can get a good look at that cut.”

“I’d better shower now,” Ellen said without moving. “If I don’t, I really won’t be able to move tomorrow.” She sighed.

From experience, she knew Ellen was psyching herself up for the process of moving from the bed and into the bathroom, a process that sometimes took upwards of ten minutes depending on the level of activity they’d engaged in on their jobs.

Sam winced, removing first his coat, then his button-down shirt. Not that it took much to remove the shirt. It was in tatters. “I can do this myself, Gwen.”

“No reason why you should.” She peered at the long, jagged cut and scratches around it. “You need a couple stitches. I’ll get you the whiskey.” 

He took the bottle and drank a couple long swallows while she washed her hands and got ready to stitch him up. In another life, Gwen thought she would have made a kick-ass doctor. She always got a sort of detached calm when she sewed someone up or set a bone.

With a long groan, Ellen got up and staggered to her bag, digging through it. Since it had taken only a couple minutes for her to get up from the bed, Gwen concluded she wasn’t as hurt as she was making it seem. Her shoulder would need attention later, however. It always did. “I may be awhile….” Ellen went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Gwen knelt in front of Sam, gently cleaning the wound. “This shouldn’t take too long. Feel free to have a few more swigs.”

“I’m good.” The bottle was set beside him on the table. “You don’t have to, Gwen. I can do it myself.” 

Gwen threaded a needle. “Will you shut up about it already? I’m not questioning your self-doctoring skills. I know you can do it, but you got hurt on a job I invited you on. It’s the least I can do, so sit back, and be a good patient.”

He looked over at the bathroom door. “Is Ellen really okay or is she faking it? She took quite a fall from that tree branch.” A hiss left him as she began to stitch the wound together, but other than that first convulsive movement of his belly with breath, he was still. The discipline that took amazed her. She’d seen him do it before, but it still got her every time.

“She’ll take a few painkiller, stand in the shower until the water runs cold, sleep until ten tomorrow morning, and be surprisingly spry by tomorrow afternoon. I hope I’m in as good of shape as she is when I’m her age.” She took a final stitch. “Almost done….. There.” Gwen added a waterproof bandage over it. “I’d add a ton of waterproof tape before showering if I were you.”

“Always do,” he replied, picking up his shirt and giving it a disappointed once-over. “I really liked this shirt, too.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” 

“The best Goodwill has to offer?”

“Something like that. If you want a real new shirt, I could do that, too. I’m not destitute, Sam. I do have some money.” Once the first aid kit was put away, she took the chair opposite him at the table. “You get a room yet?”

“Yeah.” He drew on the shirt, then slowly reached for his coat. “I’m down two doors on the right.” Meaning he was on the other side of her own room. “Think I’ll go shower, then head out and pick up some food. Any preferences tonight?”

“You know I’ll eat just about anything and Ellen’s not picky. As long as it’s hot and filling, I think we’ll be fine with whatever you choose.” 

“Great. Well, I’ll get out of your hair and be back in a bit.”

“Take your time.” When Sam had gone, Gwen went into her own room through the connecting door, letting herself limp a little, acknowledging the slight pain in her ankle. A small sprain, she decided, sitting on her bed and easing her boot off. There was some puffiness, but that might have been from the tightness of her boot at the ankle. She’d take it easy for a couple days and likely be fine.

She stripped and got into the shower, standing under the spray like she’d said Ellen was going to do, letting the hot water ease the soreness already starting. Gwen leaned against the stall wall and closed her eyes. If she was honest with herself, she was glad Sam was with them for a few days. It reminded her of better days, when there’d been a full team going out. The banter, the camaraderie, the efficiency in the hunt. Sometimes she missed the family, but mostly, she was glad she was on her own.

Well, sort of on her own.

Groaning, she got dressed, pulling on sweats instead of jeans, as her last pair was muddy, bloody, and torn after earlier. She popped a couple painkiller, then started filling a laundry bag to take to the Laundromat down the street after dinner. Maybe she could convince Sam to go with her and give Ellen some time by herself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen made a good doctor. She knew a lot more than basic first aid and he knew her interest in medicine had been encouraged along with her interest in the aspects of hunting. The family had wanted well-rounded hunters and that was what she’d become. Sam was glad for her experience because it meant he didn’t have to stitch himself up. That wasn’t high on his list of things he enjoyed doing.

The family. He snorted. Even after these months, he still thought of them in capital letters. Capital ‘T’, capital ‘F’. Gwen thought of them that way, too. It was one of the things they’d initially semi-bonded over after she’d left.

On the way to his room, he thought about what to bring back for dinner after he’d showered and changed. By the time he reached it, he’d settled on one of the chain restaurants that served home-style food. Stepping inside, he kicked the door shut with his foot, drew out his phone and looked at it. He had seven messages waiting, all from one number. Jo’s.

He played the first one.

“Sam, it’s Jo. Dean and I have stopped for the night and I need to talk to you about my mom. Call me.”

The second and third were more of the same, the fourth and so on a bit more forceful, and he was getting ready to listen to the last one when Jo called an eighth time.

“Jo, hi.”

“Why haven’t you answered any of my messages? Where the hell have you been? I called like six times.”

Sam looked longingly at the bathroom, not correcting her. “We just got in from a job where there wasn’t any cell service. Look, I need a shower. Give me ten minutes and I’ll call you back.”

“Just tell me she’s okay.” Her voice was hushed.

“Why can’t I call you back?” He frowned.

“I need to know how she is. I’m dying for information here. How was she on the job? I mean, is she okay?”

“Fine. She’s fine. We had to do some digging and things got…hairy.”

“Hairy? How so? Like really bad, hairy? Is she hurt? Tell me straight, Sam.” Jo’s voice was almost panicked and Sam mentally kicked himself for even hinting anything had gone wrong.

He went to his bag and drew out clean clothes. “She’s fine, Jo. Did better than some people half her age -- like usual. She might be sore tomorrow though. We all will be. Had something of a fight on our hands. I thought we might lose Gwen at one point, but we’re all alive and well.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.” She blew out a relieved breath. “Here’s what you do. Are you listening?”

“Sure.” He worked his coat and shirt off and let them drop to the floor. The bandage was still stuck well.

“Make her take a long shower, the longer the better, then dose her up with the best painkillers on hand. I mean it, Sam. Give her the highest dose you can of the best stuff you’ve got. Then, give her a hot meal, settle her down, and give her shoulders a good rub. She gets a lot of tension right above her left shoulder blade when she goes digging and if a hot shower doesn’t loosen it up, she’ll wake up tomorrow in a mood you don’t ever want to see. Trust me. You’ll be able to feel the knot. And let her sleep until she wakes up, probably somewhere close to noon. I usually go do laundry while she’s passed out or catch up on email.”

“Jo, we’ve got everything under control. Relax. Have a late dinner with Dean or whatever you’re doing. You’ll be here tomorrow, right?”

“Probably late afternoon. Three maybe?”

“You covered a lot of ground today.”

“Dean didn’t exactly stick to the speed limit.”

That sounded like Dean. He tended to think that they were suggestions. “Where _is_ Dean while you keep calling me?”

“Taking a nap.” There was a hint of satisfaction in her voice and Sam could pretty much figure out why Dean needed a nap. “He’s worn out. He’s… _very_ worn out.”

“I’ll bet,” he replied with an arch of one brow.

“I had to keep my promise…. We’re having a late dinner when he wakes up, which’ll be about five minutes after I get off the phone with you.”

“Planning on being showered and dressed before he wakes up, huh? Has the spark died so quickly,” he teased.

She was quiet for a few seconds. “No, but I’m hungry and I know very well if I don’t take that drastic action, I’ll have to settle for whatever fast food place is open late and I’m a little sick of hamburgers and fries already.”

“Good luck on getting a proper meal and speaking of that…. I really do need to shower and go. I’m supposed to pick up dinner for us.”

“I can take a hint. And Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Thank you for finding her and being there with her.”

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

The shower was welcome and he luckily didn’t have any leakage into his bandage. Sam dressed and bought dinner. Returning, he found Ellen in her pajamas in bed, looking every bit her age, and Gwen sitting Indian fashion on the end of Ellen’s bed, flipping channels on the tv. He set out the food on the table, eyed Ellen a moment, and brought hers to her.

“Here. Dinner in bed.”

“Sweet of you, Sam, but if I don’t move around I’ll stiffen up.” She got out of bed, moving in slow steps to the table. “Thanks for dinner. Usually Gwen gets it.”

“You were nice enough to invite me along on your hunt. Buying dinner is nothing.” He brought her container back to the table, then sat and opened his own takeout container. “I wanted to.”

“Well, thank you. This looks great.” Taking the lid off the container, Ellen opened a packet of pepper and sprinkled it over the chicken, dressing, and potatoes. “And it’s exactly what I would have ordered myself.”

He’d eaten with Ellen a few times in the past, enough to have a good idea what she’d eat. “I’m glad I guessed right, then.”

Gwen stood, stretched, and came to the table. “I’m doing laundry after dinner, so if either of you have anything that needs washed…. You could come with me, Sam. We haven’t had a good long talk in ages.”

“If Ellen doesn’t mind.”

Ellen waved her fork at him. “Don’t mind at all. I’m going to go to bed and sleep for about a million years, or until whoever it was you called gets here tomorrow.”

“That’ll be a long night. I doubt they’ll be here before about three.”

She arched a brow. “Then I’ll be well-rested.”

“How’s your shoulder,” Gwen asked in a leading tone. Sam guessed she probably had Jo’s method for dealing with Ellen’s tense shoulder.

“Hurts like usual.”

“We’ll take care of it before we go.” She took a big bite of her pasta, chewed, and swallowed. “Sam’s got the best hands. Perfect grip. You won’t believe how good he is at digging the tension out. You’ll melt.” Gwen nudged him with her foot. “Show her.”

“I’m eating,” he protested, though he’d planned on seeing if Ellen needed a backrub later per Jo’s instructions.

“After you’re done.”

After a hunt once, Gwen had mentioned a stiff neck and aching shoulder. It had been one of those little complaining things most of them did, nothing serious. He’d stepped forward and volunteered massage services while Christian was busy making teasing comments that, now that Sam thought about them, had been more than a little mean. Being possessed hadn’t made Christian mean apparently. Gwen hadn’t thought a thing of his remarks, ignoring them, so Sam extrapolated that, unless Christian had been possessed all of the years Gwen had known him, he’d always been a jerk. She’d stood still and when he’d finished, she’d looked at him with a little grin. “Quite the hidden talent, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam ate a little slower, remembering that evening. He’d only volunteered because he’d seen others do that. It was a kind gesture that helped him fit in with the rest of them. Gwen had softened up after that and with her, the rest had as well. He’d been very calculating then. If he’d had his soul at that point, he might have volunteered anyway out of genuine kindness, like he was doing for Ellen.

Jo had been right about feeling the knot, he discovered a little while later. Ellen had a sizeable knot just above her shoulder blade. However, it didn’t take him long to make it dissipate, Ellen sighing.

“Gwen was right. Toss a blanket over me, Sam. I think I’ll just fall asleep right here.” Her voice was muffled from her pillow.

He smiled a little. “Gwen’s a sucker for a shoulder rub herself.”

Gwen reached for her coat and slipped it on. “I’m not crazy. When a guy gives a good shoulder rub, I’m there. Totally.” She clapped her hands together a couple times and gestured at the door. “Okay, laundry time. Come on, Sam. Let’s let Ellen relax without us.”

In the Laundromat, he stretched out in one chair and watched Gwen do the laundry. “You know about her shoulder I take it?”

“She was pretty frank about all those sorts of things when we started working together. Wanted me to know what I was getting myself into.” She finished putting clothes in one washer and sat beside him. Gwen did laundry the way Dean did -- every single item shoved in together, though it didn’t look like she used hot water. Dean did. Even ending up with pink underwear once hadn’t stopped him from doing that. “Tell me more about Jo.”

“You’ll meet her tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’d like to know what to expect.”

“The unexpected is usually a pretty good bet. I don’t know.” Crossing his arms and hissing when it put pressure on his stitches, he sat up straight and rested his arms on the chair arms instead. “I think you’ll like Jo and she’ll like you. She’s independent, opinionated….” Sam shrugged. “She’s like Ellen. She’s her mother’s daughter through and through. I think that’s why they fought the way they did for awhile. Too much alike. But they reached a point eventually where they didn’t fight. Or if they did it wasn’t around any of us.”

“Mmm. I never fought with my mom. I wasn’t much like her or dad. When I was a kid, I got teased that I was a changeling because I wasn’t like either of them. Coming from one of our family, you know how mean that insult was.”

Sam had formed a rather unfavorable opinion of many of the Campbell clan in recent months. His mother appeared to have been the only decent one. Maybe his grandmother. Almost everyone else? Needed personality transplants. “You worked well with them.”

“I learned to just let it all go and give back as good as I got.” She crossed her arms. “Can I tell you something, Sam?”

“Sure.”

“I sort of miss having a home base. I miss sitting down as a group and discussing past cases and current ones. I miss….”

“A past you can’t go back to,” he finished quietly for her. It was a thing he and Dean both understood fully.

Gwen nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t the best, but I still have some good memories of it, you know? Christian wasn’t always a jerk. Usually, but not always. He was really sweet with Arlene. I never saw him as gentle as when he was with her. And Mark. He was a good guy.”

He crossed his ankles. “Gwen, you can have something similar with us. I mean, once Jo and Ellen are back together, we can all head to Bobby Singer’s house and spend a couple days there.”

“He’s _your_ friend, Sam. I don’t know him.”

“Then you’ll get to know him. He’s a handy guy to have on your side and he’s been like another dad to us. He might seem like a curmudgeon, but he’s got a good heart. Think about it. Me and Dean, you, Ellen, and Jo, Bobby, and sometimes Castiel. Not a big group, yet between us all, we’ve a lot of stories. We could have good times.”

She slid down in her chair and lightly kicked his foot with hers. “Are you trying to convince me to be part of your gang?”

A laugh left him. “Maybe. Nothing wrong with pooling resources is there? We could take on bigger hunts, harder jobs, more _complicated_ jobs that require a bit more research and planning.”

“You’ve thought about this.” Gwen sat back up and turned in the chair, crossing her legs. “What’s going on here, Sam? You and Dean have barely been back out on the road together --”

“Not true. We’ve been out there for months now together, getting back in the groove. I just….” How could he explain what he was thinking and feeling when he’d barely thought it out himself? “I’m not twenty anymore and neither is Dean. It’s time to rethink our strategy. Regroup. Hit the bad things from a different angle. I think that angle includes other hunters and maybe a home base like you said.”

“And Dean’s got a girlfriend now. Changes things.”

“Yes and no. Jo fits in our lives, Gwen. I want Dean to have her there. I have no problem with her there.” He wanted Dean to have the time he needed to build something real with Jo. If that meant they changed their strategy for going out on hunts, then so be it. If it meant they went on fewer hunts, then so be it. And if it meant they became better organized, he didn’t have a problem with that either. Sam didn’t think that he himself would ever have a steady girlfriend or even a wife, but Dean had that chance with Jo. He wanted Dean to have that and to learn that he was more than a hunter.

“He _can_ have her. He can have a wife and kids. You could too. I grew up seeing it around me.”

“How many of those turned out happy? Is Arlene happy Christian is dead?” 

“A few turned out happy and while Arlene isn’t happy he’s dead, I could name several who are. But you can’t ignore what you want from life and expect to be happy. Dean should go for it. So should you. There are plenty of dangerous professions out there that are just as dangerous as ours. Policemen, firemen, soldiers --”

He shifted position. “Dean doesn’t want to have kids raised in the life.”

“He could change his mind.”

“You don’t know Dean on that issue.”

“What about you? If you had kids would you raise them to know about all of this?” She got up, transferring items into the dryer before returning beside him.

“I’m not about to have kids. Lucifer’s vessel line ends here, no ifs ands or buts about it. I won’t risk it.”

She looked shocked by that. “You’re going to disregard having biological kids completely? Sam, seriously?”

“Yes. I guess adoption would be an option, but it couldn’t be an official adoption. Nothing legal. No one in their right mind would give a baby legally to a hunter and I’d never expect them to. If I had to raise a child as my own, one not biologically mine would be best, and as for teaching him or her about all of this…it’d depend on the circumstances. If I was retired, then no. If I wasn’t, maybe. Circumstances. There are benefits to it, sure. But there are also drawbacks. Big ones. Dean and dad tried to keep me in the dark and look what it did to me.”

“You seem pretty adjusted to me.”

Sam laughed. If only Gwen knew all of it. “I’m a mess inside. Trust me, Gwen.”

She touched his hand with hers. “You’re human. We’re all a bit of a mess inside.”

True. Very true.

The conversation stuck with him the rest of the night, lingering into the morning hours.


	17. Chapter 17

Jo was nervous. She both wanted to see her mother and didn’t, afraid of what she’d find the second they walked in to the motel room.

Dean took her hand in his. “Do you want me to call Sam? Have him come out and escort us in?”

“No. Yes. Would he?”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Let me call Sam.”

He didn’t call, he texted and within a minute, Sam was coming out of the motel and over to the car. Sam opened the passenger door and crouched down, taking one of Jo’s hands in his. “Hey, Jo.” He smiled.

“Sam.” She swallowed hard. One hand in Dean’s, one in Sam’s, her support group of two at the moment.

“Are you ready to go in?”

“No. How is she?”

“Curious as to who’s coming to see her. Gwen and I’ve tried not to give her any real details.” His thumb swept across the back of her hand. “Don’t get your hopes up though. I don’t think the methods we used on you will work. You can try, but I doubt she’ll know you.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she replied in the firmest tone possible, though now that she was here, her resolve was fading. She was conscious of Dean beside her shaking his head in negative, contradicting her and didn’t try to correct him because he was right. He knew the truth as well as she did. She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up and had anyway.

“She’s got a few light memories without anything specific. She recognized my voice and I’m sure she’s got yours, Dean’s and probably Bobby’s too in her head. And she told me about stalking some woman, who I’m sure was you, to prove she wasn’t as observant as she thought she was. Doesn’t remember who the woman was though.”

“That was me,” Jo confirmed, remembering that incident well. Her mother had stalked her for three weeks and when Ellen had finally confronted Jo, she’d presented photographic evidence of the stalking. Jo had been embarrassed at how off-guard her mother had caught her. She’d been having a month of doubt about living the hunting life, more than a little lackadaisical in her usual bouts of hunter paranoia and therefore hadn’t been expecting anyone or anything to be following her around. She’d thought she’d gone enough off-grid and hadn’t, though to be fair, her mother seemed to have a sort of radar that honed in on her whenever they were in the same basic location. At least, it had always felt that way over the years.

“See?” His smile was brief and crooked. “She’s got a little memory in there peeking out.” It was an attempt to make her feel better going in there and Jo was grateful for it. “Try not to feel discouraged. Dean and I will be right there and Gwen’s aware of the situation, too.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Upon entering the room, she barely noticed the young woman there, focusing instead on the welcome sight of her mother. She looked well, if a little older. Still not a streak of gray or silver in her hair -- good genes on her mom’s side Jo knew. She licked her lips and waited for a response, hoping and praying she got the one she wanted. Logic dictated that getting her mother back was going to be difficult, yet Jo had still had a hope within her heart and mind that it’d be easy. For once, couldn’t something be easy? If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that her hopes outweighed logic.

Jo wasn’t honest with herself right then and everyone in that room knew it.

Therefore, the moment her mother looked at her with a puzzled frown and asked if she was supposed to know her, Jo was gutted. All she could do was stand and stare, understanding in an icy rush how Dean and Sam must have felt with her, Sam especially. The blood seemed to leave her limbs, hands becoming cold, and if Dean hadn’t been standing close with a bracing arm about her waist, she thought her suddenly weak knees might have given out. He kept her from sliding to the ground when she started to sag, fingers grasping the waist of her jeans under her shirt and hauling her upright, body a firm anchor against her.

“I’m your daughter,” she managed to whisper before convulsive sobs hit her and she turned into Dean’s comforting embrace, letting him take the brunt of her weight. He’d been ready for this…. Jo couldn’t help the tears or sobs, helpless beneath a wave of choking emotion.

“Her name is Jo,” she heard Gwen say.

Ellen cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Jo. I…I don’t remember you.”

Dean worked the photo album from Jo’s hand -- it was a wonder she hadn’t dropped it -- and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Joanna Beth Harvelle. She was born April 7, 1983.”

“Is Harvelle my last name, too?” A curious lilt to her voice and Jo turned, keeping her arms about Dean’s waist.

“ _Yes_. You always told me dad was the love of your life, that you knew you’d never remarry.”

Ellen’s nod was slow. “That feels right, but…I thought my family was dead. It was one of those facts I thought I had straight.”

“It’s a little complicated.” Sam sat at the table. “Jo was dead. You both were. She was….”

“Ripped open by a hellhound and bled out in a hardware store in Carthage, Missouri,” Jo finished at his hesitation. “Not a time to be sensitive, Sam, but I appreciate the effort.”

The photo album was turned over in Ellen’s hands. “How are you alive?”

Jo rubbed a hand along Dean’s back in a gesture that was more for her own calm than his. “Same way you are.”

“An angel,” Dean cut in, his arm tightening a fraction about her again. “He wanted to use the two of you against us. Another angel stepped in and changed the plan.”

Ellen sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs and setting the album beside her to lean back on her hands. “Why against you, Sam, and Gwen?”

“Me and Sam. Gwen wasn’t a part of that. We didn’t even meet her until later. Didn’t Gwen tell you we didn’t know we even _had_ any relatives left?”

Gwen sat on the end of the bed, directing a speculative stare at Ellen. “I mentioned it. I remember mentioning it.”

Surely they realized what her mother was doing? Jo glanced at the three of them and back to her mother. Ellen wasn’t being particularly subtle about it, either. She was making sure the facts Gwen had told her added up with what was being said now.

“Just making sure I have it all straight, boys.” Ellen touched the album. “So, what’s this?”

“Pictures. You put them in that album and kept it with you. With us.” Jo rested her cheek against Dean’s chest. Her tears weren’t stopping, they were simply there, a constant flow.

“Oh.” She opened the album, her continued detached manner causing fresh sobs to well up in Jo. 

Sam and Dean had been right. Seeing the pictures didn’t work, nor did seeing Jo before her. She felt defeated by the entire situation.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re Dean,” Ellen said to the young man who came through the door with Sam, then looked at his companion. The young woman was beautiful in a way that made Ellen’s heart constrict within her. Breathtaking. She looked at Ellen with a mixture of expectation and fear. “I’m sorry….” Ellen shook her head. “Am I supposed to know you?”

Ellen wished she could say she knew the young woman, but she simply didn’t. The hope in the woman’s eyes gave way to despair and tears and Ellen wanted to step forward, take her in her arms and tell her it’d be okay.

The pronouncement that she was Ellen’s daughter stunned her. She clearly recalled knowing her family was dead -- not that she’d had a daughter specifically, only that her child was as dead as the husband she knew she’d had at one time.

Jo.

Joanna Beth Harvelle.

She tested it silently and could almost hear her own voice yelling it. Then, she tested her own name with that last name. Ellen Harvelle. It felt right to her, proper. Expressing her confusion brought an answer that also felt strangely right.

Hellhounds, Carthage, Missouri, and angels.

Looking down at the photo album Dean had handed her, Ellen placed it on her lap and opened it like she thought they wanted her to. Each page was studied carefully, Ellen scrutinizing the details, hungry for information. She was definitely one of the people in the pictures, unmistakable, as were Jo, Sam, and Dean. A desperation to know what they knew about her life grew. She had to know, because she thought there’d be nothing more terrible in the world to have lost her family into a black hole in her mind.

What if she never remembered Jo, or giving birth at all? What if she was never able to feel that connection she’d apparently had with Jo and with the Winchester brothers?

“I’m sorry,” she repeated in a whisper. “I want to remember. I want to remember you and these times in here, but….” she shrugged, sliding a hand across one page and feeling helpless. “I’m sorry.”

Sam moved to her, sitting beside her, and putting an arm around her. “It’s okay, Ellen.”

“No, Sam, no it’s not! I have a daughter I can’t even remember. How is that okay?”

“I only meant that we’ll do everything we can to help you get those memories back.” His hand chafed her arm.

“How?”

He didn’t have an answer and she saw that none of the rest did either. Despair, the same she thought was running roughshod over Jo, slid over her as well and Ellen began to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~

For all of Jo’s previous assurances that she expected trouble, they meant nothing when confronted with the harsh reality of her mother not knowing her. She was inconsolable, grieving fully now for what had been and might never be again. He’d thought at first that Jo had understood the reality of the situation. After all, she’d insisted she had and it had looked like maybe she did on the way here.

Now though?

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and rocked her slightly, aching inside for the disappointment and emotional agony she and Ellen were both going through. He knew exactly how Jo felt. It was hard for him to watch her go through this.

It was clear she’d never really let herself accept what could happen. She’d let herself hope too much and that hope was smashed.

Releasing her, he motioned to Gwen, who nodded and came through the connecting door and into the room. “Stay with her a minute,” he asked.

“Sure.” Gwen nodded.

Dean opened the door and stepped outside, leaving the door cracked. He watched through the window as Gwen took his place beside Jo and put an awkward arm around her, lips moving as she said something that seemed to calm Jo somewhat. Though Gwen claimed she hated this sort of drama, she appeared to be enjoying being in the thick of it, calming Ellen, helping to calm Jo.

Ellen was just as upset as Jo, for much the same reason. She wanted desperately to remember Jo, worrying aloud that she might never actually remember the child she’d given birth to. She was terrified those memories would remain buried forever. Sam, out of all of them, had the best results in calming her, assuring her in a quiet voice that she _was_ remembering things, only not as fast as they’d all like her to. He’d pointed out a few things she’d mentioned to him the past couple days, like the phantom voices she heard in her mind and the stalking incident that Jo confirmed had happened.

Dean was very afraid the wait for Ellen’s memory would end up destroying Jo and Ellen both if he didn’t try to take action. He decided to take a big chance on annoying Castiel -- if he was even still alive. Surely Cas would do this. He liked both Ellen and Jo and he’d tried to fix Jo’s memory at first.

Slipping his hands in his jacket pockets, he cast a glance up at the night sky. “Cas? Castiel? If you’re still out there somewhere, alive and available…. We need you. We need your ability to look in people’s heads and see what’s up. It’s….” He sighed. “Cas, it’s Ellen. We’ve found her, but she doesn’t….” A frustrated noise left him. He wanted to make this right for Jo and Ellen both. “Damn it, Cas. Can you hear me at all?” Dean fumbled in his pocket for his phone and pulled it out. Might as well try that avenue, too. “Please hear me because I don’t think we have days to sit on this waiting for you. I don’t think Ellen and Jo can last that long.” He’d just dialed Castiel’s number when he heard Cas’s voice from behind him.

“I hear you, Dean. I’m here.”

Turning, he saw immediately that Cas was more relaxed than he’d ever seen him. “You’re still alive.” Relief slid through him.

“Yes.” His head turned, gaze fixing on Jo and Gwen through the window. “Your… _cousin_ …is a very capable woman.”

Dean wondered a brief second on that odd pause and mention of Gwen and decided it didn’t mean anything at all. It was Cas talking like Cas. “She is at that. We found Ellen --”

“You said.” With that, Castiel was gone.

“And he’s gone. Poof.” Dean went inside the room and to the connecting door with the thought that Castiel may have gone there. He had, standing in front of Ellen, studying her. She stood and stared right back at him, not nearly as shocked by his sudden appearance as she should be for not having her memories. Maybe the mention of angels had sparked a tiny bit of memory she hadn’t admitted to?

“Geez,” Gwen gasped.

Dean turned to see what had startled her. It was Castiel, who now stood in front of Jo.

“I swear I’m going to put bells on you,” Dean told him.

Jo’s expression when she looked up at Castiel betrayed every ounce of her heartbreak and Dean stepped closer. Castiel touched his fingers to her temple, paused, then placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down a fraction.

“Rejoice, for the day you’ve dreamed is at hand. _This_ I can fix, Jo.”

Castiel was back before Ellen, staring at her as though seeing a mental map of what he needed to do, his brows drawn down. She tried to back up, but Sam placed a hand on her back, keeping her in place.

“What --” Ellen started to turn her head to look at Sam, but Castiel’s hand suddenly lashed out, two fingers to her forehead. In a second, satisfaction flashed across Castiel’s face. Dean thought he even saw the fleeting tiny curl of a grin.

Seeing Ellen’s memory return wasn’t like seeing Jo’s return. This was a fraction of a second shift between a puzzled, confused Ellen and one fully cognizant of what had occurred and what was happening now. She blinked and sucked in a breath. “Castiel? What…..” Her expression changed, became mournful and anguished. “Oh hell no! I’m --”

He lowered his hand. “Hello, Ellen. It’s good to see you again.”

Whirling from the doorway, Dean grabbed for Jo’s hand, tugging her to her feet. “Paging Doctor Cas,” he called, “you’re awesome!” He pulled her to the doorway where she could see Ellen and be seen.

“Mom?” Jo practically sobbed the word, her voice husky, the desperate hope in it carrying over to her expression and even posture.

He released her, expecting her and Ellen to run to each other any moment now. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Jo?” Ellen pushed past Castiel, reaching for Jo. “Baby!” They fell into each others arms, crying, laughing, and talking both fast and over each other in a rush of words that Dean suspected would need repeating later.

A slow smile formed as he watched that reunion Jo had yearned for. She’d talked about what she hoped for and Castiel had made it happen completely. Jo had her mother back and Dean was happy for her. He approached to Castiel. Cas looked tired, but satisfied, even…happy. He wondered what was up to cause that.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first details of what Castiel and Uzziel wanted to accomplish were hammered out. They were going to do a census of angels, figure out who was still there and in what capacity. Then they’d assess what heaven needed and reassign if necessary. Uzziel wanted reports on everything. Cas thought it was okay to start with. They just needed to get a handle on the current full state of heaven and when they had, they could relax the initial rules.

Uzziel was full of ideas already, saying something Castiel hadn’t quite followed about classes and apprentices and work-study programs. He seemed to have studied humans a bit when he was supposed to have been doing Raphael’s dirty work and had admitted some curiosity towards them.

Castiel sat down and waited for the first reports to come in. It wouldn’t be long. Uzziel’s soldiers were efficient in their tasks.

Weariness welled up inside him and he stared without seeing his surroundings, breathing slowly, resting. Relaxation was a good sensation. He’d begun to attain a state of calm that he hadn’t felt in years now when he heard Dean calling for him.

Uzziel looked over at him and crossed his arms. “Go on. I’ve got this. Take your time. You haven’t seen your human friends in awhile and when you have it’s never been for a relaxing time. Go see what that’s like. You’ll find it a simple matter to return Ellen Harvelle back to her true self. I started the process when I saw her.” He started forward and turned back. “Would you be willing to write up a report detailing that particular sort of human interaction? The socializing, I mean.”

Cas stared at him. While not enthusiastic about human interactions personally, Uzziel was willing to learn, throwing himself into planning how to be more hands-on with humans. His behavior since winning the war only hours earlier bore that out. He was definitely trying to work with Castiel on policy and everything else. Time would tell if he’d continue to be so agreeable, however.

“Yes? No? Maybe?” He held up a hand. “Think about it. It’d be a useful tool when we start implementing some of those changes we talked about a little bit ago.”

“I’m going,” Cas told him.

“Think about --”

He left before Uzziel could finish the sentence.

Dean was agitated and attempting not to show it. Castiel could see that he was worried for Ellen and Jo, more specifically for Jo.

Interesting, he thought.

Going to Ellen, he took the briefest of looks at her mind, relieved that Uzziel hadn’t lied when he’d stated that Ellen wouldn’t take long to put back to normal. He then moved to Jo, taking in the depths of her grief, noting that her tears had given her a headache that had her feeling ill to her stomach. With a touch, he healed that pain and nausea and placed his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Castiel wasn’t good at comforting people and knew it, so he tried to give her encouraging words before returning to Ellen.

He peered into Ellen’s mind more closely, seeing the connections that needed a final tap to reactivate and those that needed a last bridge to repair. All in all, Ellen was easy to fix. Uzziel _had_ repaired the damage Zachariah had done and his doctoring abilities proved to be excellent. Castiel couldn’t have done a better job himself. Well, if he’d had the power to heal that sort of damage. Uzziel was higher on the power scale than he was. All it took to fix Ellen was a touch.

Pleasure in making her well again filled him and he stepped aside, giving her a clear view of Jo.

Tears spilled from her eyes.

He wasn’t offended when Ellen pushed past him as though he’d ceased to exist because, for her, all had ceased save her daughter’s presence. He watched them embrace, both talking at once, crying and laughing. While he had no trouble following what either woman was saying, he wondered if they were really able to hear each other and fully understand what was said. He’d observed other women doing the same and thought that women truly were extraordinary creations in many ways. 

Jo spoke of her search for Ellen, her own time alone, and of her relationship with Dean, chronicling the highlights. Castiel found it very telling that Jo told Ellen immediately about Dean. That relationship was important to her and she made sure her mother knew it.

Ellen spoke of life alone until she’d met up with Gwen and the horrible reality of not knowing who she was. She stressed how difficult it was to have no memories of her past.

Gwen and Sam retreated, sitting down at the table and talking quietly, giving the two women time together, while Dean came to him. “Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. There should be a celebration now -- for Ellen and Jo, for you and Jo….”

“Me and Jo?” Dean was visibly startled that Cas knew about them, though he shouldn’t be. It wasn’t even mind-reading to see that things had changed and become intimate between them. It was all over their faces. They’d had the right time and place and it had been perfect for them. If even Castiel could see it, it was more than obvious to anyone.

“Yes.” Castiel was glad for that. Jo was good for Dean. She gave him something he needed and he was lighter in heart and spirit than he’d been in a very long time. As for Jo, Dean was good for her as well. He made her natural sassiness spring forth, gave her a lightness of spirit more appropriate for her age than the solemn retrospection she’d been slipping into prior to her death. “You deny you’ve have sexual relations with her?”

“No, but --”

“It’s taken a long time to reach that point between you?”

“Yeah, but --”

“Then there should be celebrating. And for me as well.” Besides, with the war above ended, he did feel like celebrating himself. Castiel left, returning quickly with a large paper sack of their favorite brands of beer. Ellen, Jo, Dean, Sam, and Gwen. He set the sack down. “It all should be celebrated.”

Dean whistled as Castiel drew out the bottles and cans. “We’ll just call you Mr. Moneybags from now on. What’s up with you, Cas? You’re in a damn good mood. Big victory in the war?” He passed out the beers and returned, holding out a bottle. “Join us. If you have time.”

“I’ve time.” He let a smile blossom. It was finally starting to really sink in that his side had won the war. It was over. No more fighting. “The war is over, Dean. Raphael was defeated earlier today. We lost a total of one-third our brethren, but it’s done. It really is…over.”

He stared, comprehension growing in his eyes, a grin forming on his face. “You did it?”

“I had help. You were right. I had allies. Uzziel turned, brought most of Raphael’s army with him.”

“Wow. That’s…that’s awesome, Cas. So what are you gonna do now?”

“Put the pieces back together. _Really_ put heaven back together. It’s going to be easier without Raphael causing trouble. Uzziel and I have begun deciding what needs addressed first and we’ve put together a semi-plan. Uzziel thinks we need to be more of a presence on earth than we’ve been and in a friendlier capacity. He’s willing to learn and I think others are as well. It’s a new day for us, Dean.”

“Congratulations.”

He didn’t protest the arm Dean slung about his shoulders. Cas wasn’t particularly comfortable with that gesture and never had been, but just this once he’d accept it. He’d pretend he was more human than he was because Dean was happy for him.

“We’ve gotta tell the others.” Dean clinked their beer bottles together and urged Castiel forward with him.

Castiel enjoyed the evening, surprised to find that, when he relaxed, he _did_ remember many of those human behaviors he’d learned when he’d fallen. He resolved right then to do this often and keep his people skills current -- and maybe even write up a report for Uzziel to read.

After all, it wasn’t like he was busy fighting a war anymore, was it?

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen sat on the bed beside Ellen, back to the headboard beside her. With Jo’s arrival, she knew things were going to change by necessity. They had to. Their team was done. From now on, it’d be Ellen and Jo Harvelle, like they’d started out and Gwen would go back to working alone. She was trying not to feel disappointed by that. She’d grown rather accustomed to hunting with Ellen. “So now that Jo’s back --”

“We’ll figure out a better way to divvy up the steps of the hunts we’ve got planned. Jo’s strong on research and planning, so that’ll take some of the load off of both of us.” Her sidelong glance was mildly amused, as though she’d known what Gwen had been thinking. Maybe she had.

“You want me to stay with you?” She frowned, wondering why since Ellen was going to want to spend time getting to know Jo again. “Why? You should spend time with Jo. Get to know her again.”

“We’re a team, aren’t we? You and me? And it’s better with three of us anyway. I’m not as young as I used to be and Jo’s going to be going off with Dean every so often.”

“Don’t you want to take some time and get to know her again? It’s been years since you were together. She’s changed, I’m sure.”

“We’ll catch up as we go like we did last time.” Ellen yawned. “I’m still worn out from yesterday. Why don’t you take everyone into your room for the rest of this party and let me get to bed?”

“Why don’t you and Jo stay here and talk?”

“Gwen, we’ll talk plenty over the next few weeks. Trust me. She knows I need rest.”

A glance at the door to Gwen’s room showed Jo shooing Sam and Dean through the door and motioning to Castiel to follow them. “Come on, guys. Mom’s tired.”

Dean stretched, taking up the entire doorway. “Now that you mention it, I’m kind of tired myself --”

“It’s only eleven, Dean.”

“It’s past my bedtime, woman.”

Jo shook her head with a grin and glanced over her shoulder. “You coming, Gwen?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in in a minute.”

Castiel approached the bed, gaze curious. “Do you require further healing services, Ellen?”

“It’s nothing, Cas. Another couple of good nights of sleep and I’ll be right as rain.”

“I could ease your fatigue.”

Ellen smiled. “Sweet offer, but I’d rather try sleep first.”

“Very well.” He turned away and went into Gwen’s room.

“Do you need anything?” Gwen got off the bed and waited for the negative she knew was coming.

“I think I have everything I need now.” Her smile was soft, relieved.

Gwen nodded. “I think you do.” She wondered a moment on what the coming weeks were going to bring for them. They were all going to have to adjust, even Sam and Dean. She went to the connecting door and stepped through into her room, closing the door behind her.

The party was back in full swing and Gwen grinned.

This was what she’d missed.

God willing there’d be many more evenings like this for them.

She took the fresh can of beer Sam handed her and went to get to know Jo Harvelle.


	18. Part Two: Restoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Castiel and Uzziel have some changes in mind for heaven, but don’t quite agree on those changes. Dean and Jo make an impulsive decision, while Gwen, Sam, and Ellen housesit for Bobby with the usual sort of results.

Ellen Harvelle stretched in the passenger seat of her car.

For nearly a month, the five of them, Dean, Sam, Gwen, Jo, and Ellen, had worked the pending cases Ellen and Gwen had amassed, moving through each as a team. Castiel had returned to heaven, assuring them he’d be more accessible from now on. He even got the finger quotes right, though in Ellen’s opinion, he was over-doing them now that he’d learned them. Still, with him it was strangely endearing. There was a lot about Castiel that Ellen found appealing.

After hearing all about Dean and Sam’s quest to return Jo’s memories and a bit on the months right after, Ellen wasn’t surprised when Dean and Sam stayed with them, watching Ellen closely.

Dean was anyway.

She smiled to herself and looked out the side window.

He was worried about Jo. That’s what it boiled down to. He was worried that Ellen and Jo would have a falling out before they’d even really gotten to know each other again. It wasn’t a valid worry, but Dean was in love and if he could prevent a problem, he would.

Ellen sighed, glancing at Sam. Jo had admitted to her privately that she thought she was falling in love with Dean. Okay, she hadn’t actually said it. Rather, she’d alluded to it by asking what falling in love was really like, then illustrating with supposedly hypothetical examples that were from her relationship with Dean. Visions of a future were dancing in Jo’s head and Ellen was happy for her. Jo and Dean would have ups and downs as time passed. Ellen knew that well. She and Bill had had plenty of those themselves. She hoped they’d stick it out through the bad times and learn to have a stronger relationship for that.

She wondered, if Bill had lived, would she and Jo have ever gotten as close as they had? Jo had always been her daddy’s little girl. Maybe Ellen wouldn’t have developed that close relationship with Jo. Hell, maybe Bill and John would have stayed friends and John eventually brought Sam and Dean into the Roadhouse. She could imagine how a teenage Jo would have reacted to a teenage Dean and vice-versa. Probably a good thing they hadn’t met then. She could imagine what a holy terror a teenage Dean had been -- lethal to teenage girls with more raging hormones than sense.

Even if Dean didn’t admit it out loud, Ellen had seen the emotion in his eyes when he looked at Jo. He’d passed infatuation already and headed right for love. He was hooked and he didn’t appear to be fighting it.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” He glanced at her.

“Jo never actually said…. How long have they been an item?”

He shrugged. “Hard to say really. One day it was friendly flirting and then it was more.”

“Gradual? Good. It should be gradual with those two.”

“I agree.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, then the side mirrors, changing lanes to pass a semi. 

They were nearing Sioux Falls now. It’d be another half hour before they reached Bobby’s house and longer before Dean, Jo, and Gwen reached the house. The three were stopping to pick up some party essentials that they all seemed to agree on without a verbal listing of said essentials. Ellen hadn’t even tried to ask what they were going to buy.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Dean has this doubt in his head about the sort of man he can be and the life he can have. A lot of things contributed to it. That doubt isn’t something that can be negated quickly. It has to be slow and I think he has to work through every stumbling block so slowly he won’t realize it’s there until he’s past it and proven it wrong.”

She studied him, eyes narrowing. Did he understand that he had those same issues in regards to who he could be and that life he could have? She’d heard him say several times already that he wasn’t able to have a girlfriend, wife, or children.

It wasn’t just Dean that the crap in their lives had beaten down. Sam had taken his share of beating as well. The two of them were both messed up and certain they couldn’t have their dreams.

“A lot of things contributed,” he repeated, “and I was one of them. You know Lisa? The civilian?”

Ellen nodded. She’d been given the whole long story from her death to the present in stages. Dean told some, Sam, then Jo. She’d heard two points of view on Lisa thus far. Dean’s first. He thought himself a failure and a ton of other things from that relationship. The more Dean had told her about Lisa and how they’d been, the more Ellen wondered if Lisa was a controlling woman. She’d sounded that way. Controlling, manipulative. It sounded to Ellen like there’d been some emotional abuse going on there against Dean.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Dean hadn’t meant what he’d told her to come out with those sort of leanings. She didn’t think he even noticed the pattern in the interactions he’d mentioned. Maybe Lisa was really a nice woman. She’d heard Dean’s side and hadn’t actually seen the two together. Thus far, however, she’d developed a hearty dislike for Lisa Braeden that had everything to do with what Dean had told her. 

Jo’s opinion, though she hadn’t ever met the woman, was pure outrage on Dean and Sam’s behalf for something Lisa had said to Dean. Now, it looked like Ellen was finally going to hear from Sam on the relationship.

“I’m the one who sent him to her. I made him promise and it blew up. I was wrong about her and if I hadn’t made him promise….” Sam cleared his throat. “I know I’m not wrong about Jo though. There’s something there and it’s real and it’s doing Dean some real good. I can see that. The change is there and it’s something I never thought I’d see. I want to encourage that. One of us should have a romantic relationship that works. I want him to have that and while I know he can’t leave hunting, it’s possible to have that life _in_ the life, right?”

Ellen opened her water bottle and took a long drink. “Are you asking me, Sam, or telling me?”

“Asking, I guess? I mean, you married a hunter….”

“Sam.” Ellen shifted in the seat. “Bill Harvelle was the love of my life. I’d have gone anywhere, done anything to be with him. If he’d asked me to travel all over the U.S. like a nomad, I’d have done it. The risks, while very real and later felt hard, didn’t outweigh my need for him. With him, I was whole. That doesn’t mean it was roses all the time, because it wasn’t. Bill and I made the decision together to have the life we wanted within the hunting life for as long as we could. We were happy and as much grief as I went through when he died, I can’t regret living that life with him. I treasure those memories. That life with him brought me Jo and later, brought me you, Dean, and Bobby in a different way. Gwen, Castiel…. If I’d not accepted his proposal, I would have lost so much that means everything to me now. My life would have been far less rich.”

He was quiet a long moment. “I can see how you and Gwen get along so well. She gave me the same basic speech about living life awhile back.”

“Gwen can be wise for her age.”

“She can also be a smartass and a know-it-all.”

Ellen smiled. Gwen was indeed all of those things and more. She was a lot like Jo in some ways, probably why the two were getting along so well. She was glad that Jo was developing a friendship with Gwen. It was going to make working together all the easier. Besides, it was good for Jo to have a close friend her own age.

They reached Bobby’s house not long after that discussion and Ellen got out of the car, stretching slowly. Her hips ached a little from the long drive and her shoulder was going to need another of Sam’s rubs later, preferable with some icy-hot. She was discovering that even a couple years was making a difference in how she moved and how fast she recuperated. It took her longer to recover from hunts, she needed more sleep, and she just didn’t have the stamina she’d had the year she’d died.

When did I get old, she thought. In her own mind, she still felt twenty, but her body told her she was way off. It was sobering to consider.

“You go on in,” Sam told her. “I’ll bring in the bags.”

She went in the house, knocking loud on the door as she did so. “Anybody naked in here?”

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Bobby Singer turned his tv off and rolled his chair back across the floor. “Ellen. You look good.”

She stepped inside the kitchen, pleased to see him get up and walk to her on his own two feet instead of rolling in a wheelchair.

“Hey, Bobby. I see your ugly ass hasn’t changed since I saw you last.” She gestured at him. “Though you mobile is a damn good sight to see.”

“Ain’t it, though?” He peered around. “Where the rest of them?”

“Jo, Gwen, and Dean stopped to buy some party food. They’ll be along in a bit.” She glanced at the window. “Sam’s getting the bags. He’ll be in in a minute.”

His expression softened and he hugged her, a quick embrace that lasted only a couple seconds. “Glad they found you.”

“I’m glad to be found.”

The door opened, Sam stepping in. He carried Ellen, Gwen, and Jo’s bags. “You’re gonna have a houseful, Bobby.”

“You think I don’t have the room or something? The women can take the bedrooms upstairs.”

Ellen cleared her throat as Sam headed up the stairs. “I think Dean might be bedding down with Jo, unless you can make them behave.”

Bobby snorted. “Make either of those two behave? Impossible. Any idea what they’re bringing back?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

They arrived an hour later, with everything from pizza and beer to ice cream and a bakery cake, Jo and Gwen unpacking the food. Jo showed Gwen where to put things and they started in on the pizza.

To Ellen’s surprise, Jo headed upstairs alone and Dean remained in what Bobby called ‘the man’s land’. In other words, Dean and Jo had decided to behave themselves -- for one night at least.

Ellen went to bed not long after Jo and slept straight through until Gwen knocked and asked if Ellen wanted to go to breakfast in town. Bobby had already eaten, but Sam was game, while Dean and Jo remained asleep. Ellen told her to let them sleep and was ready to leave within ten minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean followed Jo into the kitchen, remembering their last fridge exchange at Bobby’s. It had been the night before she’d died. What better way to smooth over that memory than to make a new one to take it’s place? He set his beer down on the counter next to hers, and grasped her hips, pulling her close. “Let’s go up to bed,” he suggested with a leer and lecherous wiggle of his brows.

While Jo accepted a long, deep kiss, she drew back after it with a shake of her head. “Not here.” Her hands slid across his chest and up to grasp his shoulders. “Not yet anyway.”

It took him a second to realize she was completely serious. “Not yet? Why not?” Her refusal made no sense.

She jerked her head towards the other room. “My mother will be right next door and Bobby right downstairs.”

“You really think they haven’t figured out that we --”

Her fingertips touched his lips. “No, I know they have. Mom probably guessed at a glance. It’s just…. It’s silly, I guess. I’m not ready for them to hear us loud and clear because, sweetheart, we’re…sort of loud.”

Dean kissed her fingertips. “Ellen was in the next room last night,” he pointed out, “and I’m pretty sure she heard us, along with the people three doors down in both directions.”

“You could have been watching porn with the volume at full.”

“True, but not a lot of porn characters in the same film named Dean and Jo. Trust me on this. I’ve made a study of porn over the years.”

“It could happen,” she insisted.

He sighed, the visions of all of the naughty things he’d been planning on doing with her disappearing. “While I like that stubborn streak you have, it’s frustrating as hell.”

Casting a quick glance at the other room, Jo slid her arms around his neck and raised up on tiptoe to kiss him. “Tonight is out, but…. Mom and Bobby are going in to the library tomorrow to look up a few things.”

An all-day task, he knew. Ellen probably had a checklist of things she wanted to cover.

“And Gwen is going out to explore Sioux Falls.”

She’d be gone all day as well.

“Not to mention Sam asked her to give him a ride in.”

“We’ll have the place to ourselves all day.”

Jo slid her hand, the one on the cabinet side of her, down his chest and lower. He sucked in a breath at that bold caress. “We can be as noisy as we like.”

“We _could_ do that anyway.”

“Not tonight we’re not.” Her smile was sweet, that hand sliding back up his body.

“You _are_ a stubborn wench,” he replied, pressed a last kiss to her lips, and released her, snatching up his beer from the counter.

“You love my strong will.” Jo picked up her own bottle.

“Oh, so it’s called a strong will now?”

She shrugged, “Tomato, tom _ah_ to,” and sauntered back into the other room to join the others, her hips swaying.

Mmm…the things he was going to do to her tomorrow….

Dean stayed in the kitchen until that rise Jo had caused went down, drinking the rest of his beer and pretending to search through the fridge and cupboards. He went to bed alone awhile later and dreamed about Jo and being marooned with her on a tropical island. In the dream, the beer was plentiful and her bikini almost microscopic. It was a good dream.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen came down the stairs slowly. She didn’t want to wake anyone, but couldn’t sleep. The light in the kitchen was on, Sam at the table with a paperback book.

He looked up when she walked in. “Can’t sleep?”

“Give me a nice, impersonal motel and I’m out like a light. Put me in someone’s house? Insomnia. Weird, huh?”

His marked his place in the book and set it aside. “Glasses are in that cupboard,” he pointed, “if you want something. Bobby won’t mind.”

“He did say to help myself to food and drink.” She got a glass of water and joined him at the table. “Can’t sleep yourself?”

“I’ll hit the couch about two, get between four and five hours. One of these nights, maybe I’ll be back to six or eight like I used to sleep.”

“If four or five works, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Well, I didn’t worry really before when I wasn’t sleeping at all, so a little worry is a healthy thing, I think.”

She picked up his book and studied it. It was a techno thriller The cover looked like a dog had been chewing on it. “A lot of people get that amount is all I mean. You’re different now, a different man entirely. Maybe getting your soul back after being without it reset your body. Maybe you were always meant to be a four to five hour sleeper and more than that was your notion of what you needed.”

“Are you saying I let society convince me how much sleep I need?” His brows lifted in skepticism.

Gwen shrugged, putting the book back down. “Could be. Why not?”

A slow grin stretched his lips. “I had no idea you could be such a Pollyanna, all cheerful and glass half full.”

She grinned back. “I’m a complicated woman, Sam.”

“I’m seeing that.”

“I’m not always cheerful, either. I can be a real moody bitch.”

“I’ve seen that one several times.”

Gwen chuckled. They kept the conversation light and soon, she felt the pull back into sleep. “I’m heading back up. See you in the morning.”

When she finally did fall asleep, she slept well and if Gwen dreamed, she didn’t remember them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo had feigned sleep when Gwen knocked on the door at the ungodly hour of seven a.m.. In actuality, she’d been awake since six-thirty, daydreaming of the all-day activities with Dean that she had planned. It took less than half an hour for all but Dean and herself to leave. She got out of bed and drew on her robe, then went down to the kitchen to eat breakfast.

Dean was there, making toast with cheese, banana, and bologna between the slices. Noticing the disgusted curl of her lip, he remarked, “Try it before you decide it’s gross.”

“I’ll eat my bananas alone, thank you.” She reached for a banana, the last of the ones she and Gwen had bought. Someone had eaten over ten since the night before. The huge bunches they’d bought were quite a bit slimmer, only three left. Jo wondered who the banana fiend was.

“Can I watch?” He turned with a hopeful expression.

She dragged out eating it just to tease him, nearly choking once when he groaned playfully. As she finished the fruit and threw out the peel, he poured her a cup of coffee and held it out.

“You want some toast?”

“With peanut butter if there’s any.” Jo took the coffee to the table and sat down.

He made her toast, slathering on a thick layer of peanut butter, then brought it to the table. They ate together in silence.

“So….” Dean slid his plate aside. “What’s say we brush our teeth and head back to bed for a day?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Several hours later, Jo rolled over in bed, stretching. “Mmm…. I’m hungry.”

Dean shifted position, lips moving over her torso in a random pattern of kisses. “Me, too.”

“I mean for food.” She stroked a hand along his shoulders and back.

“Me, too. What’d you think I meant?” The twinkle in his eyes was mischievous.

“We need lunch.”

“I’m open to ideas.”

“Make me pancakes.”

“Pancakes?”

She laughed. “I want you to make me pancakes like you did last fall.”

Slowly, he sat up. “Only if Bobby’s got the ingredients.”

“I’m sure he does.”

They had pancakes half an hour later, with sausage on the side, once more sitting next to each other at the table.

“You three have a plan, yet?” He forked a pancake onto his plate buttered it, and cut it up before reaching for the syrup.

“Something like one. We’re going to pick some cases that might be light and easy and get our bearings together. So far, Gwen and I seem to get along, but who knows what’ll happen out in the field?”

“I think you’ll work fine together. Gwen knows her stuff.”

“She’s pretty cool.” Jo really did like Gwen. They’d clicked within hours of beginning to talk, discovering many similar likes and dislikes. She had a good feeling about this partnership.

They did the dishes, Dean washing and Jo drying, then went back up to bed. There was no need to be silent and they took advantage of that until they exhausted themselves.

She snuggled back against Dean, the covers pulled up over them. “Dean?” Jo glanced over her shoulder. He was warm against her, arm an anchor about her as he slept, his breaths slow and even. She licked her lips and, in the quiet, whispered the three words she couldn’t quite say yet when he was awake, words she’d realized described her feelings for him rather completely. “I love you.”

Jo smiled and snuggled back against him. She closed her eyes and drifted into a satisfied sleep, no longer caring if they were still in bed when everyone returned.

~~~~~~~~~~

Behind her, Dean opened his eyes, a lump growing in his throat that he swallowed hard around. She loved him. She’d said it. It wasn’t a wondering on his behalf anymore. Jo had told him she loved him. Maybe it wasn’t when she thought he was awake, but the important part was that she’d said it. He couldn’t say it out loud to her yet either, so he did the next best thing. He followed her lead and mouthed, ‘I love you, too,’ before closing his eyes and attempting to drift fully into sleep.

He was more content than he’d been in years.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Keep an open mind, Castiel.” Uzziel felt like he’d been saying that quite a lot to Castiel since they’d begun deciding what changes to try first. Shouldn’t Castiel be the one saying that to him? After all, Castiel was the mover and shaker; the progressive one; the one in with the times…or something like that. Uzziel was very afraid that he wasn’t catching on to the way humans talked. Maybe he should study slang?

Castiel sighed. “I don’t see why you can’t perform this task.”

Uzziel leaned forward. The more he learned about humans, the more curious he became. If he’d put away his initial dislike a long time ago, he’d be in a very different position now. Maybe their side would have won a lot faster. However, he’d made his bed and was determined to do well. It was what their Father wanted after all. He’d wanted his angels to care for his humans and so Uzziel would set that up. “I’m busy elsewhere and really, you’re much better with the administrative things than I am. All of those details. Arcane things. You like figuring them out.”

“You were Raphael’s top general, Uzziel. You had to be good at those things then.”

“Oh no, I’m good at faking it. I’m really rather hopeless at organization on an administrative level. Soldiers are one thing, office workers another entirely. Honestly, I’d really rather be out in battle than navigating the administrative waters.” He shuddered. “ _Desk_ job. Not in my skill set.”

Castiel quirked a brow and lowered his attention to the page Uzziel had handed him. On it, Uzziel had compiled a neat list of the departments, department heads, a brief description of the departments, and a schedule for him to follow. He could easily be busy for six months earth-time if he actually spoke to all of those angels listed, which would give Uzziel time to try out his latest idea. “I’m not running myself ragged in this endeavor,” Castiel said with a peevish frown.

“I’m not proposing you do. Those are suggestions, Castiel. You visit those you think necessary.”

Folding the page, he slipped it into his coat pocket. “What’ll you be doing while I’m at this task?”

“Sifting through the census and making sense of the odd problems still floating around.”

Castiel stared at Uzziel a long while, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What are you planning?”

His head dipped in a slow nod. He’d recently thought of a plan that would enable angels to grow closer to humans. It was sort of elaborate and would take weeks of planning. “I do have an idea, but let me plan it out and see if it’ll work before I lay it out for you.”

This was where trust came in. Castiel should trust Uzziel by now. After all, Uzziel had slid him the sword he’d used to kill Raphael. Not only that, but he’d had Castiel’s back throughout the last bits of that battle. The problem was, gaining Castiel’s trust wasn’t an easy thing. Perhaps it was a leftover emotion from previous years of dealing with some of the others? 

Castiel drew in a long breath. Uzziel could see this decision to trust him was difficult for Castiel to make. “Very well. You arrange your idea and let me know when you’re ready to present it in full.”

Uzziel’s lips twitched. “You won’t regret this, brother.”

As soon as Castiel was gone to that first department, Uzziel called over some of the angels who’d fled heaven when Michael had gone into the pit with Lucifer. Several had returned, contrite, asking forgiveness for weakness. Uzziel planned to put their experiences on earth to good use and when he had everything in place, he’d begin implementing his plan.


	19. Chapter 19

Ellen and Bobby had gone to bed. Gwen, Sam, Dean, and Jo remained up, enjoying a last night before they all headed out in the morning for new jobs.

Gwen swirled the remains of her vodka collins in her glass. Jo made a kick-ass drink, the best, strongest vodka collins Gwen had ever had and Gwen thought she might be a little tipsy at present. She surveyed the snacks on the table. The bean dip Ellen had made was nearly gone, as was the cake, but there was still a package of salt and vinegar chips and cheese popcorn. They’d gone through most of what they’d bought, Jo covertly adding a few things to Bobby’s cupboards to make up for staying for a week. “I have an idea.”

“Do tell, Supergirl.” Dean linked his fingers through Jo’s. He’d changed quite a bit since Gwen had first met him. He was growing more relaxed and less moody as time went on. Sam had told her that Dean was more like he’d been at twenty-four than he’d been in years. Gwen supposed that was a good thing. Sam hadn’t really explained.

“Well, since we plan on keeping in touch regularly anyway, why not set up a meet-up about once every other month or so? We’ll pick a date and come up with a place closer to that date?” She scooped some dip up and poured the dregs of the tortilla bag onto her plate. “It’ll give us all a chance to wind down on a regular basis, exchange --”

“Stories, tips….” Sam interrupted her with a twinkle in his eye, snatching the package of salt and vinegar chips and reaching into it.

“Exactly.” His expression indicated that he remembered that conversation they’d had in February. She gestured at Jo and Dean. “You could count on seeing each other and Ellen could get her shoulder rub fix.”

“Worth a try,” Dean said, his gaze turning to Jo, whose head rested on his shoulder. She’d grown quiet as the hours had passed, half dozing against him, her legs curled up to the side. 

Without opening her eyes, she replied in a sleepy voice, “Sounds good to me.”

Gwen smiled. “Great. How about we plan to meet about May, then July --”

“How about April, May, June, July….” She yawned so wide it made Gwen’s jaw ache.

“That’s monthly, Jo,” she pointed out.

“And?”

“Every six weeks,” Dean suggested, loosing his hand from Jo’s and standing up. “Look, let’s finalize it as we travel because, as you said, we’re communicating regularly anyway.” He stood, then bent and grabbed Jo’s hands. “Come on, bedtime. You’re falling asleep.” He tugged her up and they were upstairs in a minute, leaving Sam and Gwen alone to clean up.

Sam crumpled the chip bag. “I think we can throw out the rest of this. The cake is stale, the bean dip won’t keep another day --”

“Just don’t touch Jo’s cheese popcorn.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He sat forward. “So, since it’s up to you and me in the planning department, what’s say we meet the first week of May, then mid-June, and the end of August and see how that goes?”

“What about Jo’s birthday?”

Sam thought a moment. “Dean’ll want to be with her for it and Ellen won’t miss it….”

“No, but she’ll be okay with celebrating early if Dean makes plans for something special.”

“Good point. It’s only about ten days away though.”

“So we split the jobs you found in Arkansas instead of you two working all of them.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Gwen drank the last of her drink and set the glass down. “Okay. I’d better head up myself.”

“Go on. I’ll take care of this.”

She left him cleaning and got ready for bed. Tomorrow was the start of a new partnership and Gwen was looking forward to it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The scene was deliciously bloody and gory. There was potential in this, Jo could see it.

She flipped open her i.d. case and held it up. “Joanna Scully, FBI, and this is my partner, Gwen Mulder.”

Gwen held up her own case.

They’d caught wind of this body and since it sounded like something maybe up in their alley, they thought they’d check it out on their way to their destination. She and Gwen were on their own while Ellen recovered from a sprained shoulder. That left shoulder had been giving her trouble for awhile and she’d aggravated it enough on that last job that she’d gone in to the local clinic about it. She was currently at Bobby’s for a few days, supposedly resting, but probably not.

“Scully and Mulder? Really?” The officer tried not to smile and failed. “Big fans of the show are you? Hey…isn’t Mulder supposed to be a guy?”

Jo and Gwen exchanged an un-amused stare, as though heartily sick of comments of that sort, and Jo replied, “Believe me, we’ve heard all of the jokes, so if we could get down to business, please? We have a case to solve.”

The officer looked again at their i.d.’s. “I’ll need to call in and verify.”

Gwen gave him a card Bobby’d made up that looked official and had his number on it.

Jo could imagine the look on Bobby’s face when this guy called and smirked as she turned away from the officer. “Better be a one-off, I’d say,” she said low to Gwen.

“Definitely,” Gwen replied, remaining still with an air of infinite patience, though Jo knew Gwen was as eager as she was to get a look at the scene. “We’ll go back to the other ones later.”

It didn’t take long before that amused attitude the officer had turned to something a bit more respectful.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Willis, FBI.”

“I’ve got agents Joanna Scully and Gwen Mulder here --”

Bobby rolled his eyes and concluded the call in his usual manner, managing not to snicker, before grimacing at Ellen. “You couldn’t talk them out of Mulder and Scully?”

“There was an X-Files marathon on and how could I protest when they made me Ellen Skinner?”

“ _Really,_ Ellen?”

She shrugged a single brow. “Skinner was a great character and that actor, Mitch something or other, was pretty sexy.”

“Change theirs at least. I can barely call them some of my best agents with a straight face.”

“You do realize Jo and Gwen are just as creative as Dean and Sam?”

“I expect it, but I’d prefer something a little less tongue-in-cheek and in-your-face.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t promise anything.” She set down several cards. “Rummy.”

“Balls,” Bobby muttered and reached for the phone as it rang again. “Willis, FBI.” Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Jo were well-matched in creativity in his opinion. Not only that, but both teams were busy at present posing as FBI in opposite areas of the U.S.. Dean’s latest identity creations were even more whimsical than usual. Bobby was actually glad to notice that, because for awhile, Dean’s creativity had gone right out the window. He appeared to be bouncing back with a vengeance, which could be a good or bad thing depending on how one looked at it. “If Agents Mercury and May say they need --” After a minute of arguing, he hung up.

Ellen snickered as she shuffled the cards and dealt. “Moving across the ocean for further inspiration now, are they?”

“They’ve always crossed back and forth in references.”

“Which one was Mercury?”

“Dean stuck Sam with that one.”

She laughed. “That sounds like Dean.” Ellen glanced up at him. “So…. Going to tell me about those cruise brochures on your desk?”

“I’m considering a vacation. A long one.” He wasn’t about to elaborate and jinx it. Suffice it to say, he planned on having company on that vacation.

“Anyone I know,” Ellen inquired in a sly tone.

“Maybe.” He’d narrowed down the ones he was interested in and as soon as Jo and Gwen got back to pick up Ellen later in the week, he was going to approach Jodie about a joint vacation. Nothing romantic, just friends. They were friends, right? They got along and as time had passed, he’d realized she was just as lonely as he was. Why not go together and enjoy each other’s company?

“What’s tickling your fancy?”

“Either Alaska or Jamaica. Depends on when I decide to go. I may hit you up to housesit if you wouldn’t mind, answer the phones with something official sounding about how Willis, Castle, or Lovell is on vacation, maybe do a spot of research for a couple guys now and then….”

Ellen smiled. “I think I can handle the pressure, Bobby. Can’t be busier than the Roadhouse was on a Saturday night with fifteen thirsty hunters and various townies.”

His own smile was wolfish. “Oh, you think.”

“You want to bet?”

“Fifty says you’re tearing your hair out after two days of answering my phones and working my routine.”

“Say when, old man.”

“I’ll get back to you on that part.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel materialized in Dean and Sam’s motel room. Dean was staring at his reflection in the mirror. “Dean.” He turned and Cas blinked. “You’re injured. Where’s Sam?” His step closer to look at the injury made Dean step back.

He touched the white strip on his nose. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “Getting pain pills.”

“Does Jo know you’re injured?”

Alarm flashed in his eyes and seemed to almost be magnified by the bruising around both eyes. “No.” Dean pointed a finger at him. “She’s not going to either. Don’t you tell her, Cas. She’ll worry.”

“You’re under a misconception if you believe she won’t notice your changed appearance when you meet several days from now in Texas.”

“I’ll hide it.”

“How?”

“I’ll…. I don’t know how, but I will.”

“I could heal it for you.” Once, he would have simply reached out and done it, but one recent development had been the agreement that healing wouldn’t be automatic. There had to be a discussion of some sort first.

The agreement had come about when Ellen pointed out that they were all a little too dependant on Castiel’s healing abilities. Sam was more blunt, saying they were taking advantage of Cas. After consideration of that as the argument raged around him, Castiel had concluded that there was an over-dependence on his abilities -- by Dean and Sam at least. Ellen rarely asked for anything and Castiel couldn’t recall Jo or Gwen asking ever. Dean had been reluctant to give up that healing, yet when Sam pressed him, he’d agreed to the restrictions. Giving it up scared the hell out of Dean. To him, the loss of that automatic healing meant more pain for himself and those he cared for.

“Yes.”

Cas reached out.

“No.

He pulled his hand back. After several minutes of that routine, he sighed. “Dean, it’s your decision. You must decide for yourself whether or not to accept the consequences of this injury.”

A key sounded in the lock and just as Dean accepted, Sam walked in.

“Cas, no! You’re not healing him.” He set the bag he carried on the table and approached them.

“My decision, Sammy, not yours. Lay those healing hands on me, Cas.”

“Dean,” Sam said in a warning tone, “we agreed to stop taking advantage of Cas, remember? Life changes in small steps.”

“He offered.”

“I did offer,” Castiel clarified for him.

“Deal with the pain, Dean.”

“You had a broken nose, Sam? Come on! It’s gonna be all bumpy now. I’m disfigured.”

“If you’d quit touching it, it’ll heal fine.”

Sensing something deeper going on with that strange bit of vanity, Castiel did a forbidden foray into Dean’s mind to discover the truth of the matter. After a moment, he thought he understood.

Human attraction was in part a physical thing. Dean was worried that the resulting change in the shape of his nose was going to change how Jo saw him. He feared she wouldn’t find him attractive. Human vanity reared up in the oddest of times, he reflected with a shake of his head. Dean had never worried about that before in any of his other injuries, but now he did.

Castiel put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I’m making an executive decision.” He sent a blast of healing power into his body that straightened his nose and healed most of the damage. He still had the black eyes, but the nose was nearly healed. There’d be no sign of the injury later and he’d not need to worry about disfigurement.

“Cas.” Sam sighed in exasperation. “We can’t wean off of your powers if you keep doing it anyway.”

“Don’t start, Sam. Consider it a gift, though to be honest,” he looked at Dean, “I believe Jo would be attracted to you no matter what the shape of your nose.”

“Wait,” Sam held up a hand. “You were worried Jo would dump you over this?”

“No,” Dean denied, pulling the tape from his nose and peering in the mirror again. “Good, good, Cas. Nice job. Looks better than before….”

“Dean?” Sam’s lips tightened in annoyance.

“Not answering that question, Sammy.” He turned from the mirror, much more cheerful now. “Executive decision? Where’d you learn that phrase?”

“Uzziel.”

“Right.”

With a disgusted snort, Sam put the bag he’d brought into his bag. “He’s right, you know. Jo wouldn’t be that shallow.”

“Did I ask,” Dean retorted.

“Telling you anyway.” He moved to the table and sat down, legs stretched out and arms crossed. “How go the changes in heaven?

Castiel leaned against the dresser. “Slow. I’ve spoken to roughly half of the departments, which is quite an accomplishment for approximately three earth months. I’ve learned of several jobs I never knew existed and discovered that vessel assignments is quite the drawn-out task, not to mention that the human heaven gate guard training program needs an upgrade, the library needs more workers, and the Book of Life scribes have been on strike for nearly a century. The clerk currently in the position of making entries claims to have developed the angelic version of carpal tunnel syndrome and wishes some sort of compensation for the work-related injury. They all want to know what I plan to do about each matter.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. But they’re cooperating and the task isn’t as unpleasant as it sounds, merely…tedious. And I’ve had a few speeches I’ve had to give and a couple of what you call ‘press conferences’ to inform all of heaven of various automatic changes immediately implemented.”

“ _You’ve_ been giving speeches?” Dean snorted and pulled a handful of change from his pocket.

“I’ve had something of a secretary and speechwriter with me most of the time.”

“You running for office up there?” Having counted out a bunch of coins, Dean returned the rest to his pocket.

Sam shifted in his chair. “What’s Uzziel doing while you’re doing all of that?”

“Staying out of my way. He actually created my itinerary. He has a…side project he’s been working on.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean dropped onto one bed and stretched out, feeding quarters into a slot. In a minute, the bed was making a noise and he was smiling blissfully. “Mmmm….”

“Want us to leave you alone,” Sam asked with a quirk of a brow.

“Maybe later. Cas, what exactly is Uzziel’s side project?”

“I wish I knew. He’s being secretive.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I don’t believe it’s any reason to be alarmed --”

“No, I mean ‘uh-oh I don’t have anymore quarters’.” He turned his head, gesturing with one hand. “Where’s the laundry roll, Sam?”

“You’re not taking the laundry quarters to keep the magic fingers going.”

“Not when you’re looking I’m not,” he muttered.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?”

He could tell by Dean’s thoughts on the subject of Jo, that the relationship was going well. Not only that, but Dean and Sam had achieved something of their original stride together. He stood up straight. “I should be going.”

“Why don’t you stop by next week?” The bed stopped making noises and Dean sighed, disappointment on his face. “I’m sure Ellen, Jo, and Gwen wouldn’t mind seeing you.”

“I’ll consider it. Uzziel has been making noises however, about showing me the plans he’s drawn up. I may be busy with that, but I’ll try to attend.”

Castiel returned to his list of departments and the angel Mariel, his assistant.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang. Bobby tried to ignore it. He’d barely gotten through his ‘have some coffeecake and coffee’ spiel with Jodie before the blasted thing was screeching again.

There was the hint of a smile on her lips. “Go ahead. I’m off duty.”

He answered. “Willis, FBI.” When the call was done, he returned to the counter to bring over the coffeecake. “Can you think of a cultural reference, probably a movie, with the names DeWitt and Zuckerman?”

“Which of your…friends…was it this time?”

“Jo and Gwen. They’re calling themselves Jo DeWitt and Gwen Zuckerman now. I know those last names from something.”

Jodie reached for the cake, dishing up a hearty slice. “I shouldn’t admit this, but I can tell you that one right off. It’s from one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies.”

“Enlighten me.” He dished up a piece of cake for himself.

“Feds. It had Rebecca de Mornay in it.”

Bobby’s sigh was heavy and with the mention of that actress, he suddenly placed the names. DeWitt was the blond one, played by de Mornay and Zuckerman was dark haired, portrayed by…. He couldn’t think of the name. Mary something? “I told her _less_ tongue-in-cheek.” He supposed he should be thankful they weren’t lifting from current tv and movies. 

She laughed. “It’s not too recognizable. I doubt many would know it.”

“Except you.”

“Except me,” she agreed. “Good cake.”

“Entemann’s.”

“Yeah, I saw the box. Still good.” Jodie sipped at her coffee. “What’s up, Bobby?”

He decided it was better to stop beating around the bush and just get right to it. “You said you got something like three weeks of vacation and PT built up that you have to take.”

“Yes? I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with myself for that long.”

“Well…..” He grabbed a folder and set it over beside her on the table. “I was thinking. I need some time off myself and I mean actual time off. A vacation. I haven’t taken a real vacation in a long time. We could go somewhere together.”

Her lips parted and he hurried on.

“Not like _together_ together, more like friends pooling resources. We get along and it’d be nice to have someone --”

“Sure.”

“-- to see the sights with…. Did you say ‘sure’?”

“I did. Where’d you have in mind and when?” She opened the envelope. “A cruise?”

“No bathing suits required if you don’t want.”

“You want to go on a nudist cruise for a friends vacation?”

“No! I didn’t mean --” He stopped and took a long look at her expression. “You’re joking, ain’t you?”

“Sure am.” Jodie grinned.

“I’m surrounded by comedians.” Reaching across, he spread the brochures out. “This Alaskan water-air tour looks good. Lots of things to do.”

“Let me check on when I can take the time and we can go over these in-depth.”

“Right. Sounds like a plan then.”

Three days later, he had a set date for vacation: mid-August to early September. Bobby began planning, surprised at how much he enjoyed the process. Either Jodie was at his place two to three times a week, or he was at hers, going over details, planning excursions, and making sure they had all of the travel plans decided.

He called Ellen and arranged for her to housesit for three weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

With their last job done (a hag that had been particularly nasty to deal with), Sam tracked down a huge local pawn shop and scoped it out while Dean was sleeping all morning. The shop was blessedly air-conditioned, a good thing on this hot late-June day. Sam browsed, starting at the back of the store and working his way forward. Dean would be out for hours and he was tired of doing research.

He reached the jewelry case and paused, glancing over the offerings. When he saw something he thought would interest Dean, and Jo in a roundabout way, he knew he’d be bringing Dean back later that day. 

Sam returned to their motel and, after lunch, suggested they stop at the pawn shop and do some shopping. Dean agreed.

Sam meandered over to the display case that held watches and jewelry, as though he was browsing. “You see this case, Dean?”

He walked over. “I have a watch already.”

“No,” he pointed, “I mean this one. The jewelry. Weren’t you looking for something to get for Jo when your six-month rolls around in August?”

“I’ve got two months.” Dean leaned over the case, studying the jewelry on display. Necklaces, bracelets, watches, rings. Sam knew what Dean’s eyes would be drawn to.

The only thing in the case that Jo would like was an engagement ring-wedding band set. The rest of the jewelry was too gaudy or just not her style.

It wasn’t that Sam was going to push Dean to buy anything, he simply thought it was time Dean thought a little harder on the future. He saw Dean’s gaze slide to that set over and over, eyes narrowing, lips pursing, and Sam slapped him on the back. “I’m going over to the cd’s.”

As he looked at the titles, he kept a covert eye on Dean, smiling a little when he bought something and slipped the package into his pocket.

“Hey, Sammy, I’m going out to the car.”

“Sure. I’ll be out in a minute.” Sam waited and when he passed by the case on his way out, he glanced at the spot where that set had been. The spot was empty. He smiled to himself.

Dean had bought the ring and band set.

~~~~~~~~~~

In every town they stayed awhile in, Dean shopped the pawn shops, looking for the perfect piece of jewelry to give to Jo. He thought a nice necklace or something, but was undecided. Nothing had looked right and he wanted to get her quality, not some cheap piece of crap that’d turn her skin green. He joined Sam at the case, expecting the same big, fat nothing he’d found elsewhere. To his surprise, he saw the perfect thing for her.

The ring was right for her, delicate, not flashy. A single diamond, flanked by a trio of chips on either side. She’d like it -- and on the plus side, she could use it as a weapon if need be because the main diamond stuck out. He could even picture it on her finger. It was classy, nice.

The problem? It was an engagement ring and had a matching wedding band. No way he could claim it was a promise ring or whatever that silly phrase was. It was obviously an engagement ring.

Sam went to look at cd’s and Dean asked to see the set. He touched a finger to the diamond on the ring. It was more than he’d planned to spend, but he knew she’d like it. No, she’d love it. Should he buy it? He hadn’t really thought about marriage…. Was it too soon? It wasn’t like they’d been rushing anything.

Dean bought the set on impulse. He knew it was the right thing to do, felt it deep inside on a soul level. Those rings were Jo’s and could only ever be hers. Once it was bought and he was outside in the car, he took it out of the bag and opened the box, studying it in the afternoon sunlight. Beautiful. An image of them on her hand flashed in his mind and he smiled a little, a warm sensation spreading through his chest. He’d have to get a sealable little envelope for it and keep it in his wallet until he found the right time to give it to her. Maybe it’d be on their sixth month, maybe later.

He tucked the little box away and wondered if he’d know when to give it to her.

~~~~~~~~~~

The throne room had been redecorated.

Castiel took that in at a glance, then took a longer look to study it all. There were stations set up, angels directing other angels to different tables and, as he stood there, Uzziel’s secretary Jael shoved a large thick envelope at him and hurried away. With a sliver of misgiving, Castiel opened it and drew out the folded pamphlet on the top of a sheaf of papers. He held it up, reading.

‘ _Are you an angel with an affection for humanity? Do you wish you could share your fondness for humans with other angels? Then join the Angel Mentoring Program (AMP) and be a mentor to angels just discovering the worth of God’s humans. Be instrumental in shaping the messengers and ambassadors of the future!_ ’

The message wasn’t exactly what Castiel had had in mind when he’d agreed to Uzziel’s statement that his supporters should mentor those angels relatively new to liking humanity. He’d pictured something more along the lines of a few lectures, not…this.

He flicked his glance to one station. Were those Mylar balloons?

He frowned, looking over the gathering of angels, both vesseled and in natural form, mingling together. A few carried packets like what Jael had given him or cups with liquid in them and…cookies? _What_ was going on? 

Over the months, some of his fellow angels had developed the odd habit of giggling and whispering to each other when he looked at them. He’d found that happening more and more since the war had ended and Uzziel had begun thrusting Castiel forward as the hero of the hour. There’d been a reason Uzziel had mentioned speechwriters. Cas hadn’t shared the fullness of that situation with Dean and Sam. That simple reason was that heaven needed a face to relate to in this new day and Castiel was prettier than Uzziel. Uzziel’s words, not his. It had been determined that Castiel was that spokesman, what Uzziel called a natural extension of his efforts during the war.

He’d been busy for weeks moving from one engagement to the next, giving speeches various angels had written for him and being the face of the new heaven. He’d gone to all of the departments one by one, meeting each department head, reassuring them, learning what each one did, and realizing that this task was far greater than he’d ever imagined. 

He studied the brochure in his hands. A brochure. They’d actually printed a brochure with the heavenly presses and passed it out. Could that count as a good use of resources?

This is surreal, Castiel thought with a mild sense of horror. A part of him wondered what cultural reference Dean would use to describe this sense of everything being off-kilter, but since he didn’t know enough references, he couldn’t begin to guess.

The front of the brochure had a picture of him and not a very flattering one at that. He was standing between Dean and Sam, the Impala in the background. Someone more interested in computers than himself had obviously studied photo editing programs, yet not quite mastered the techniques, as the arms he had around the two men weren’t his own. How could he tell? For one, he’d never embraced them that way and two, the color on the sleeves of the coat didn’t match up. It obviously didn’t match up, the colors completely different.

He flipped open the brochure.

‘ _AMP mentors will guide angels through the vessel process, with full instruction on the courting and both long and short-term care of vessels. Mentors will stay with the new member during the entire process and through the first few assignments, giving advice and aid as needed._ ’

This was a disaster in the making. His frown deepened and he kept reading, noting that the next picture of him made him look like a half-wit.

‘ _There will be mandatory classes for new members immediately after acceptance into the program. The classes are designed to give a greater understanding of the human condition and will cover such basic things as hygiene, appearance, and strange human quirks that will help assimilation into human society._ ’

Assimilation into human society? His stomach seemed to turn over inside him. Oh yes, this could be very bad indeed.

“Well? What do you think?” Uzziel sauntered up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes indicating that he knew very well what Castiel thought of this development and was going to milk it for all it was worth. Come to find out, back in the day, Uzziel had been one of Gabriel’s buddies. Funny how Castiel hadn’t remembered that tidbit until recently. How had Raphael not killed him long ago?

He knew the answer to that, of course. Uzziel was a master on the battlefield. His mastery there outweighed his affiliation with Gabriel.

“Assimilation? You want to send them down to live among the humans?”

“How better to really learn about them? We’ve been insulated, Castiel. Think of all the things you learned with the Winchester brothers and their friends. Would you deny your brethren that same experience?”

“It’ll hardly be the same as they won’t be bleeding out power from falling through disobedience.”

Uzziel waved a hand like it was a trivial difference. “Those who ran out, like Balthazar, have had a wealth of experiences and the ones who’ve returned contrite are willing to teach the basic courses. I’m even going to spend some time downstairs myself.” 

Cas would believe that when he saw it. “Why am I here today?”

“Just….stand right there and be patient. I’ll be right back. I’ve got a final couple things to look over and then I’ll go through the packet with you before we start.”

He had a very bad feeling about this.


	20. Chapter 20

Uzziel returned in minutes and slapped a nametag on Castiel’s chest. “Okay, here you go, though I think everyone up here knows who you are by now. You’re recognizable; quite a good face for new Heaven.”

Cas looked down at it. ‘Hello, my name is…’ was written in red and in black was ‘Castiel’. He looked at the packet and brochure. “I’ve been putting heaven to rights and you’ve been,” he sought the correct phrase for what he thought was happening here, “organizing a convention?”

“Yes.” Uzziel’s chest seemed to puff up. “It’s to kick off the new mentor program, really get everyone excited for it. My vessel has years of experience organizing large groups of people. I studied his methods and began to figure out how to implement them up here. I think I’m on to something.” He gestured at the envelope. “Open your schedule and class packet. I’m excited by this, aren’t you?”

Excited wasn’t exactly the word he’d use. He drew out the rest of the pages, glancing at the ten page schedule typed, front and back, in font so small Castiel had to raise the paper close and squint to read it. It read like Castiel’s to-do list had, items laid out with military precision, though heaven’s military ran far smoother than any human military ever had as a whole. There were more events than a human convention could handle, but he had no doubt that Uzziel would make sure each scheduled event began and ended precisely on time. For all of his denials that he was good at these things, Uzziel was quite proficient and possibly suffering from OCD.

“Look at the class list,” Uzziel urged, a gleam in his eyes that made the wariness inside Castiel surge to higher levels.

He shuffled the papers to find the class packet. His curiosity on the matter was growing. What sort of classes could these possibly be? Uzziel stepped closer and to the side, looking over Castiel’s shoulder to read. Cas skimmed the first page.

_Clothing: Blending in is a skill and one that can depend largely upon clothing. Join us to look into the sorts of clothing worn to a variety of events for both men and women._

_Food and Drink: How not to appear gluttonous when dining with human companions. We will cover the etiquette of ordering meals and the complete dining process, including the appropriateness of belching in certain situations. There will be five field trips included: casual dining, fast food, sporting event, an evening at a bar, and fine dining._

_Human Social Rituals: The puzzling, the peculiar. Join us in decoding some of their most anomalous behaviors._

_Noxious chemicals: The smells that come from the human body and what causes them._

_Personal Space: How to maintain the proper distance in situations that could prove challenging. We will split into pairs to practice._

_Powers: The etiquette of where and when not to use them so as not to appear suspicious._

_Riding in Cars: Slow, yet necessary transportation. We will study the necessity of them and a brief history of human transportation methods throughout time. There will be several field trips._

_Riding in Cars II: In the continuation of Riding in Cars, we will cover the driving of vehicles and the importance of following human vehicular laws._

_Slang: The odd way humans choose to converse. American vernacular will be addressed. Positive comments on this class may result in an expanded curriculum._

Castiel glanced at Uzziel. “Are you insane?”

“I’m attempting to impart an appreciation for humanity to my siblings. Just try it. That’s all I ask. If my method produces little results, then we’ll go on to your ideas. What were those again? Ah, yes, you had none.”

“We’re holy beings, Uzziel. If we were meant to be human we’d be human.”

“But we’re sorely lacking an understanding of them as a whole. Admit that. We’ve been dragging our feet and now, we’re behind in the times. When we should have been attempting to understand and appreciate them, we were too busy being jealous and hating them. It’s time we all learn the way.”

“You want to drink the Kool-Aid.”

“Huh?”

His lips twitched. “It’s an expression Dean Winchester uses.” Just one of many he’d learned from Dean and one Dean had used often enough that he understood it.

“Oh, Is that…slang? Talk to Asriel, make sure that’s included in the handouts for her class.”

Cas suppressed a sigh. “Very well. We’ll try this. Tell me about these classes you’ve organized.”

Uzziel smiled. “Well, I studied the places we’re lacking in understanding and decided we should fill those places. I searched for angels who could give answers and sat down with them to create a curriculum that would be beneficial to all.”

“I see.”

“Even Balthazar has offered to teach a class -- an American dancing class.”

“What would that be?” Cas didn’t know Balthazar was even interested in dancing and from what he’d observed, American dancing was largely either jerking ones body back and forth or two people rubbing up against each other in time to the music.

“Something called the horizontal mambo.”

He quirked a brow. Uzziel had to be putting him on. Had to be. Surely he knew what that meant? Even _Castiel_ knew what that meant.

But no, Uzziel was serious, pointing at the listing in the papers. “Funny though, he requested only angels in female vessels….”

“It doesn’t refer to a dance, Uzziel. The ‘horizontal mambo’ is a reference to sexual intercourse.”

Uzziel blinked, then blinked again, frowning. “That explains a lot. More slang, right?” He shook his head. “I should strike that from the list immediately.”

“I’d be suspicious of anything Balthazar wants to teach.”

“I really need to go downstairs and observe, don’t I?”

“It would be helpful. Perhaps you should take some of these classes yourself?”

Jael hurried up. “You’re on in five, Uz. You told Castiel yet? He should be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” Castiel’s innocent question caused a cackle of laughter from Jael.

“Oh, this should be interesting,” Jael remarked as he walked up the steps onto the platform where the throne was and adjusted what looked like a microphone.

Cas took a closer look. It _was_ a microphone. He rolled his eyes. Uzziel was taking appearances a little too far. They didn’t need microphones and certainly not in the throne room. The acoustics in the room were great. “Tell me what, Uzziel?”

“Didn’t I tell you about the field part of the program?”

“No.”

“Oh. I thought I had.” In order to hear him, as Uzziel was deliberately speaking softer, Castiel had to follow him up the steps onto the platform. The angels in the room began to move towards them. “I’ve set it up for you to be the first mentor. I’ve already drawn the name of your pupil --”

“No. And let me repeat that: no. I hardly have the patience to babysit --”

“Huh? What was that? I can’t hear you….” He cupped a hand at his ear and reached for the fake microphone, grinning. “Hello, hello! Is this thing on?”

Half the angels in the room laughed, the others simply looked confused.

“Uzziel,” Castiel hissed, but Uzziel wasn’t paying any attention to him now.

“The moment you’ve been waiting for has arrived!” There was applause. “I think we all know Castiel, right? Give him a warm welcome!”

The applause grew louder and from the back came a catcall and a voice Cas identified as Balthazar’s, “Take it off! Take it all off,” followed by an amused snicker.

“Stop this at once!” Castiel kept his voice low, making a mental note to have words with Balthazar later about the his inappropriate jokes.

“Can’t . It’s already in motion,” Uzziel said out of the corner of his mouth. “Everyone have your stubs?” Hands raised, each one grasping paper. “Excellent. And the winner of the first spot in the program and of Castiel’s sole attention for the duration of this maiden session of our new training program is….” The paper in his hand was thrust at Castiel, who had no choice but to either take it or have it shoved up his nose.

There was silence, Castiel staring out at the expectant faces, a sinking sensation growing in his stomach. He cleared his throat. Of all the stupid ideas…. Like he had time to do this. “Abigael,” he said. “The name is Abigael.”

There were disappointed grumbles, some of the angels tossing their papers on the floor and leaving, but from the back of the throne room came a pleased shout. “Yes!” He saw a fist shoot up in the air. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! You all lose!” The angel, petite and in a blond vessel, began to dance. “Go you, go you!” She pointed at the angel beside her, who seemed rather embarrassed by the display.

Castiel concluded the enthusiastic one was likely one of the angels who’d fled to earth and returned. The angel beside her had his full sympathies. He stepped down from the podium and across the room to them. “Abigael,” he asked the dancing one, who stopped long enough to shake her head.

“I’m Abigael,” the angel in the dark haired vessel told him in a soft voice. Her vessel was of medium height, with shoulder-length dark hair and what Dean would have referred to as an exotic air. She met his gaze for approximately one-eighth of a second before looking to the floor.

“Lucky,” her friend told her sotto voce.

“I can still hear you.” Castiel mentioned that, thinking perhaps it would stop her. It didn’t.

“I know!”

“And you are?”

“That’s Ariel.” Abigael looked at her friend with a pleading gaze.

“See, Abby, I told you if you just asked Uzziel --”

“I didn’t!” She was mortified now, eyes widening. “You did.”

Amused blue eyes flicked to him and back to Abigael. “Have fun and remember everything I told you.”

Abigael closed her eyes for a moment with an expression of extreme humiliation.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere and talk,” Castiel suggested. He led her towards the garden and they sat on one of the benches at the edge of it. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

Her vessel was named Risa St. James and she turned out to be more average in life than Jimmy. It had taken even less time for Abigael to convince her to be a vessel than it had Cas to convince Jimmy. As for Abigael, she was a librarian and had been in the library for centuries. Perhaps he’d even see her there before.

“Have you been on earth before,” he inquired, very aware that others were watching them. Probably Uzziel’s spies, he thought.

“Only long enough to speak with Risa and take her as a vessel.”

“I see.” This was very awkward. He decided right then to discourage Uzziel in continuing this part of the program when he had the time again. Castiel thought back to what the brochure had said about the program. If he understood his role correctly, he was simply to guide her in how to behave with humans and how to deal with them as she worked her first assignments. “Have you your first assignment?”

She shook her head. “No. We were told that whoever was picked would receive their assignment from you.”

He glared off towards the throne room. “I see,” he repeated. “Perhaps we should assess your strengths first. Come with me.” He left heaven, not waiting to see if she followed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen was glad to have some time coming up to watch Bobby’s house and consider her life. As she, Jo, and Gwen had been working together, Ellen had become aware of an uncomfortable fact. Two facts, rather.

The first was that she’d grown as attached to Gwen as she was to Jo, her motherly instincts rising when either one was the least bit sick or hurt. One had the flu, she wanted to swoop in with medicine and care. The other got hurt, she was afraid it was life-threatening until she saw the injury.

She thought she’d grown to understand John Winchester a bit more than she had. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d loved and worried for both his boys.

The second was the fact that her shoulder wasn’t healing as fast as she’d hoped it would. She hadn’t exactly told Jo and Gwen that it was sprained, but they’d gotten that idea when she’d come back with it all taped up and refused to discuss what the doctor had told her. All she’d needed was to keep it fairly immobile for awhile. Still, that injury had weakened it.

Getting old sucks, Ellen thought.

As much as she hated to admit it, maybe she should retire from active hunting and go back to being a spotter and resource. At times she almost felt like she was holding Jo and Gwen back. They claimed otherwise, but Ellen knew she’d slowed down. It was amazing what the difference of a couple years made physically in the life of a hunter.

She pulled up the calendar on her phone and looked at it. It had taken nearly five months for her to decide that Jo and Gwen worked well together. At times it was like they were on the same wavelength. Their methods of working jobs were similar and their temperaments meshed. Ellen wouldn’t feel terrible about leaving them to work as a team, though she would miss being with them all the time. Maybe it was time for that, to cut the last of the apron strings.

Ellen thought she’d take the time house sitting at Bobby’s to fully think over the matter.

Her attention turned to the date and she pursed her lips in thought. What was Dean up to? While he’d called Jo on the day of what the two considered their six month anniversary and said a few things that had caused Jo to flush bright red and smile goofily, he’d apparently made no mention of that fact, which had put Jo in something of a slump for a few days. Jo thought he’d forgotten it had been six months.

He had to know the date meant something to Jo. Six months was the longest relationship she’d had. Or at least that Ellen knew about. Jo had been vague on what had happened from the time she’d initially left the Roadhouse to the time Ellen had found her. Ellen hoped he was planning something spectacular or even something at all. Maybe she’d give him a call and suggest he make some plans.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was rising when Gwen returned from her run and took a shower. She was nearly dressed when her phone rang.

“Gwen? Hi, it’s Arlene.”

“Hey, what’s up? You okay?” She kept her voice low, managing to conceal her surprise at hearing Arlene’s voice. Gwen hadn’t exactly kept in touch with any of the Campbell clan. She glanced at Jo, who seemed to be still asleep. While she was an early bird, Jo wasn’t quite as much of one. Gwen stepped to the connecting door and peered through it. Ellen was in the shower, she could hear the water running and the soft sound of Ellen singing off-key.

“No, actually, I’m not. It’s my mom.”

“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?” Arlene’s mother had been having health problems for awhile now.

“Early onset Alzheimer’s and it’s hitting her hard. Um…. Look, I’ve had the archives cluttering up my attic, basement, and spare room for years now. Christian loved having them in the house, though I don’t think he ever looked at any of it. He just liked that everyone had to come to us for the information if they wanted it. Anyway….”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I’m sitting here outside your motel with a truck full of archive boxes and if you don’t want the damn things, I’m going to put a torch to it all.”

She opened the curtains.

Jo made a loud noise of protest. “Ahh! Bright! Early!”

“Pull the covers up over your head and go back to sleep,” she told Jo.

Arlene was leaning against the hood of a truck that had a U-Haul trailer attached to the back. Gwen held up a hand in a half wave. So that was why Dean had texted her that trouble was coming her way. Arlene must have contacted Dean and Sam first to find out where they were, since Gwen had long ago changed her phone number and ‘forgotten’ to add several old contacts, Arlene included. She had a twinge of guilt from that. Arlene had always been nice to her.

“Uh…. Come in, I guess.”

Arlene greeted her with a hug. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid and her clothes looked quite a bit looser on her than they’d been the last time Gwen had seen her. “You look well, Gwen. Getting out from under the family thumb suits you.”

“I think so. Now, why are you bringing this to me? Why not drop them off at the compound?”

Her gaze turned hard and she snorted. “Because with Christian dead, I’m not a Campbell anymore and according to his will, whatever was his is mine, including those boxes as they were on our property.”

Gwen didn’t think it worked out that way since the boxes were only stored there, but Arlene appeared firm on that matter. She wondered who it was who’d pissed her off. Had someone gone there and tried to take the boxes from her? Had Samuel maybe? “Oh.”

“I’ve no ties to them anymore. You’re gone, Mark’s dead, Samuel turned out to be a dick…. I’d rather be in Maine taking care of mom. I want you to have the archives, Gwen. You’re the only one of them left I give a damn about and I think if you start looking through them, you might learn a few interesting things about _your_ family.”

The way she said it made Gwen wary. ‘A few interesting things about _your_ family.’ “Arlene --”

“No, if you don’t want them, I’ll just take them and burn them. It’d be better for all.”

What was she talking about? Burn them? Better if they were ashes? Wasn’t it all genealogical papers? “Did you read some of the papers?”

“Do you want them or not?” Her tone was brisk and Gwen realized that Arlene was frightened by something. Whether it had anything to do with the archives was another matter.

“Sure.” Though where she was going to store them she didn’t know.

Arlene smiled. “Thank God. They’re all yours.” She handed her a set of keys. “These will unlock the back.”

“You want to stay? Have breakfast? You can meet Ellen and Jo.”

“No, but thanks. I’m glad to see you’ve found people to trust. I never admitted it to Christian, but I like Dean and Sam.”

When the door was closed and Arlene gone, Jo’s voice came from one bed. “Was I half asleep and dreaming, or did you just become the sole owner of a crap load of musty boxes that detail the history of your family?”

“I did become sole owner of a crap load of musty boxes, but they may or may not contain the history of my family. I have no idea what’s in them. I wasn’t ever allowed to look as a kid. None of us were and then when I got to be an adult, I was too busy working to care about family history except in the ‘family pride, woo-hoo, go-team’ way.”

Jo sat up and yawned. “Hmm. What are you going to do with them?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Do with what?” Ellen looked through the doorway between their rooms. She was in her robe, toweling her hair dry.

Gwen and Jo both pointed at the window and the trailer.

Ellen followed their gesture and frowned. “Huh. Let me get dressed, then we can have breakfast and see what’s in the back of that bad boy.”

Three hours later, Gwen had made her first decision regarding the boxes and dialed Bobby singer’s number.

“Bobby? Hi, it’s Gwen…. No, nothing’s wrong….No, I’m not calling to ask you to dig up info. It’s just, I’ve recently come into possession of the Campbell family archives,” she parted the curtain and looked out at the parking lot, where the small U-Haul trailer was parked, “and was wondering if you’d be interested in them.”

At the table, Jo chewed a slice of apple and gave her a thumbs-up before cutting another slice.

“No, it’s a lot of genealogical information I think. No one was ever very clear about what was in the boxes and to be honest, I never looked. The only one who looked somewhat recently was Samuel. There’s probably more in them, I’m not really sure.” She vaguely remembered her own parents going through a box or two before taping them back up and returning them to storage. “File boxes and archive boxes, all in a small U-Haul. Ellen thinks there’s probably about fifty boxes total, maybe more, all sealed with tape….Yeah, I agree. Seems a low number if the Campbells have been in the game as long as Samuel said.”

Why had Arlene brought them to Gwen? It was a puzzle to her. Arlene seemed sure something in them would be of interest to Gwen, but if it wasn’t information on a current case, she didn’t want to deal with it. Better if she gave it all to someone who’d actually want to look at each and every paper, like Bobby Singer.

Bobby dithered, as Jo and Ellen had said he would, yet in the end, he told her to bring them and put them in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Gwen would take the trailer to Bobby’s, turn it in, and meet Ellen and Jo in Illinois.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are you boys?”

Dean looked over the roof of the Impala and waved at Sam to hurry up. “In the cultural mecca that is Lacon, Illinois. Why?”

“What are you doing there?”

“Investigating a phantom dog sighting. They’re all over here. Lacon, Sparland, Henry…Chillicothe. Though to tell you the truth, I think it’s less phantom dog than pink elephants, if you catch my drift.”

Ellen laughed. “Make sure you catch lunch at Willies Tamales on 29. Truckers that go up 29 love it.”

“Way ahead of you. Ate there yesterday.” Sam had balked at eating there, so Dean had gone by himself and thoroughly enjoyed it.

“Look, Gwen had to run to Bobby’s. She’s meeting up with us in Bloomington-Normal. If your case is a bust, maybe you could take the one a friend of mine just bumped my way a couple hours ago?”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s down in Jacksonville, Illinois. My friend, her daughter Emily goes to college down there. Big news is that there’s a ghost scaring the crap out of people in the administration building. Something triggered it, because it wasn’t there before. Previous school year was fine, yet this one began with a bang of activity. The school is trying to keep it quiet, but students and staff are spooked. Emily works in the building putting out the literary magazine. The office she’s in is in the basement and she’s both heard and seen the spook. Soon as she realized what was going on, she called home to mom and dad and had them put the word out.”

He got the particulars and hung up as Sam approached the car. “Come on, Sammy. Ellen passed us a fresh job.”

“Tell me it’s not more phantom dogs. I’ve had about all of that I can take.”

“No dogs, just a ghost on a college campus.” He waggled his brows. “Think about it. College girls. We could find you a wild one.”

Sam laughed, “Right. Okay,” and got into the car.

“I’m holding you to that,” he replied. As they drove, he thought about the tentative plans he’d been making for that all-important six month anniversary with Jo. He hadn’t said a word to anyone, but his idea was to take Jo off for a week or two when Ellen went to housesit for Bobby. He figured Sam and Gwen could either stay there with her or work a few cases while he and Jo went on a vacation of their own.

Maybe it’d finally feel like the right time to ask Jo to marry him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Out of all the dangerous situations to be in, _this_ was what got one of them hurt?

Jo’s hands shook as she dialed her mother’s number. She felt like she was going to throw up. “Crap, oh crap, this isn’t happening.” It didn’t take long for Ellen to answer. “Mom, Gwen’s hurt. I’m going in the ambulance with her. Meet us…um…at…uh… Bromenn. Yeah, Bromenn. That’s where they’re taking her.”

“Jo, what happened?”

“Just come please. I’ll explain when you get there.”

She hung up and climbed in the back of the ambulance, reaching for Gwen’s hand


	21. Chapter 21

By the time Sam and Dean reached the hospital, Gwen was in surgery and Ellen and Jo weren’t speaking to each other. Jo’s makeup was streaked and Sam couldn’t tell if it was from tears of fear for Gwen or anger at the argument she’d had with Ellen. Could be either or both. Dean jerked his head in Jo’s direction and went to sit beside Ellen. 

Sam cleared his throat, making a motion towards the hallway with one hand. “Jo? Show me where I can get some coffee?”

“Sure.” She got up and led him from the waiting room and down the hall. They ended up in a small café area, Sam buying coffee for both of them. Jo ordered a fancy extra large coffee and he ordered a plain small coffee, along with a sandwich and chips.

Steering her to one table, he sat her down and set the sandwich and chips in front of her. “Here. Eat.”

She ate a few bites. “Thank you for this. Gwen and I hadn’t gotten around to eating when it happened.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

“Want to? No. Will I anyway? Yes.” She took the lid off her coffee and sipped it. “You can’t tell Dean any of this, okay? Gwen would kill me and bury me in the middle of nowhere if I did, and believe me, she knows plenty of nowhere places all over the country.”

“Now I’m dying to know what happened.”

Jo’s nose scrunched up and she groaned. “We were bowling.”

“Working a case?”

“Um….” She shook her head. “No…. We were done with the case. See, mom wanted to go see this artsy foreign film that’s been playing all over and neither Gwen or I wanted to, so we went bowling.”

“Ellen likes those movies?” He learned something new all the time about people he knew.

“Yeah.” Jo shrugged and ate a few chips. “She had a friend when I was little who introduced her to them and she liked them. Says they’re a stress reliever.”

“Uh-huh.” His brows rose. “Your mother is a complicated woman.”

“Tell me about it. If dad had been around, he would have teased her mercilessly about it. Ask me her Christmas routines sometime. They’re a real joy to go through because she’s relentless. Anyway….” She offered half the sandwich to him and when he declined, she took a bite out of that side too. “The best part about college towns are the on-campus bowling alleys, or the ones really close to campus. See, with a little makeup, a low cut top, hair down, and a flirtatious attitude, those college boys fall all over themselves to buy us beer and pay for our lane all night.”

He laughed. “You and Gwen use your feminine wiles to get free stuff?”

“Sure. God gave us hips and tits for a reason, Sam. Why not use them?”

“Gwen flirts? Gwen? My cousin Gwen?”

“You act like it’s incomprehensible or something.” She ate a couple bites of one half of the sandwich. “She had one guy practically drooling earlier.”

He sat back in his chair, thinking about that. He supposed Gwen could be flirtatious, he’d just never seen her do it. “So, does Dean know you do that?”

“Duh. I told him all about it. He thought it was funny.”

“Oh. Okay. How did the injury happen?”

Jo heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. “She was getting ready to throw the ball and some drunken frat boy grabbed her. She lost her balance, the ball went straight in the gutter -- negating her thus far perfect score, I might add -- and her ankle snapped in two places. The first snap when she went down and the second when Shamu the frat boy fell on top of her.”

“It just snapped?” That didn’t sound right.

Her gaze shifted to the right a little. “Not exactly….”

“Jo, tell me.”

“It snapped when her butt came right down on it. Her knees are bruised pretty badly from it, too.”

“Wait, she fell straight down?” He illustrated with his hands to Jo’s firm nods.

“Yup. Bam!” Jo slapped her hand flat onto the table to make a cracking noise. “She went down. Bystanders heard her ankle crack. I mean, it was loud. Sickening loud.”

“It’s _broken_ broken.”

“That’s what I told you. It was pretty gross and I’ve seen some gross injuries. I was about puking when the ambulance came. She’s out of commission for awhile, Sam. They’re putting in like two screws and a plate or something to hold it together. Got her in faster than I thought they would, too. I thought we’d be sitting here for days waiting for them to take her in to fix it.”

“Poor Gwen.” Being somewhat immobile was going to drive her nuts.

“I know. She’s sort of embarrassed by how it happened and you know Dean’ll tease her horribly when he finds out we weren’t even on the job at the time.”

She was right. Dean would get a lot of mileage out of that. He’d be making jokes about frat boys and balls for months. “I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you.” She finished the sandwich and started in on the chips.

Sam drank his coffee while Jo ate and when she’d crumpled the bag and sat back to drink her coffee, he asked, “Why’s Ellen mad at you?”

Her teeth grazed her lower lip. “I sort of didn’t elaborate on the phone about the seriousness of the injury when I should have. She thought Gwen was dying and I was trying to spare her pain as long as I could. Came in demanding to see her immediately, refused to wait for an escort back to where we were waiting…. Where I was waiting, rather. Gwen was in x-ray. She told the nurse she was Gwen’s mom so they’d give her access to the records, then grabbed the chart from the nurse and looked at it. Frankly, I’m surprised neither one of us ended up carted out by security.” She drained the cup. “The pain meds made Gwen loopy and she started singing German drinking songs. Did you know Gwen knows German?”

“Yes, I did. She knows a little Spanish, too.”

“Well, I didn’t. That could come in handy. And she’s got a decent singing voice, too.” She aimed and tossed her cup into the trash receptacle. “Shall we go back up and see if there’s any news?”

“Lead the way.”

Sam followed Jo to the waiting room and found Ellen still in a bad mood and Dean stretched out beside her looking like he’d maybe only said two words the entire time he and Jo were gone. Dean looked up, shrugged, and went back to contemplating the toes of his boots, only changing position slightly when Jo sat beside him so he could put an arm around her.

It was another hour before the doctor told them Gwen was in a room, resting comfortably and they should come back in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~

The waiting room was chilly, but not because of temperature. Dean took that in in a single second and decided to let Sam have a crack at Jo while he tried to get details from Ellen. He sat beside her and was about to say something when she started mumbling about inconsiderate children and feeling foolish. As he wasn’t sure how to answer that, he stayed quiet, waiting for an opening where he could ask what had happened.

That opening didn’t come.

“You _children_ are going to be the death of me,” Ellen grumbled to him. 

It was the fifth such refrain in only minutes and he decided it was wise not to point out that they really had been the death of her once already. In her mood, she might not see the humor in it. She wasn’t calming down enough to say anything about what had happened to Gwen -- other than that she was in surgery -- or what the argument with Jo had been about and by the time Sam and Jo returned he’d given up on that venture.

The surgery went well, but the doctor obviously thought they should all let her rest instead of them trooping in to see her. Ellen turned without a word and strode towards the elevator.

“We’re getting food,” she announced in the parking deck. “There’s a place not far from here that the nurse told me about. Grand Café. Supposed to have the best egg rolls in the area. It’s a part of their advertising, I guess.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Dean muttered as they got into the Impala.

To his surprise and delight, the portions were good sized and that claim to fame for the egg rolls was deserved.

Jo pushed her almond chicken aside. She’d eaten about half of the portion in the serving dish. “We should take something back for Gwen before visiting hours are over.”

Ellen sipped at her tea. “Sweetie, I doubt she’s going to want anything for awhile between the pain, the meds, and surgery.”

Dean pointed his fork at the remains of Jo’s dinner. “You gonna eat that?”

She slid it over to him.

Sam was still working on his own dinner and Ellen had eaten most of her beef chop suey. Without a word, Ellen pushed her serving dish his way, along with the last of the rice in two bowls.

“So,” Dean began, piling the leftovers on his plate, “any of you going to actually tell me how she broke it?” He waited, looking from Ellen, to Jo, to Sam and back again. “What, is it some secret I can’t know?”

Jo cleared her throat and Sam shoved a huge bite of food in his mouth. That left Ellen, who sat back and stretched.

“It was a stupid accident is what it was. Stupid,” she repeated, “and Jo should have told me on the phone that Gwen wasn’t in critical condition or dying. I went in there like an old fool thinking Gwen was at death’s door --”

“I apologized, mom. I wasn’t thinking, okay? I was a little concerned with getting Gwen to the hospital and not puking because it was gross! I’ve seen gross before, but this was really gross. Her ankle was all --”

Sam looked up at her. “Jo, I’m still eating here.”

“Sorry.” She waved a hand. “If I could go back, I’d tell you she only fell while we were bo --” With a sharp gasp, she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Yes,” Dean asked, leaning over slightly and quirking a brow at her.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Jo. What, were you like _bowling_ or something?” Her eyes widened a fraction and he blinked. “That’s it, isn’t it. Gwen broke her ankle bowling. Huh.” He turned back to his plate and stirred the contents together. “Accidents happen, right?”

“After telling me not to tell him, you ended up doing it yourself,” Sam pointed out with a snort. “nice.”

“Oh, shut up, Sam,” Jo said and slumped in the seat. 

“You told Sam not to tell me? Why?” Dean could guess, however. He’d gotten into the habit of teasing Gwen about anything he could think of.

“Gwen didn’t want you to know,” she informed Dean, setting one hand on his leg. “It was the only thing she kept saying. ‘Don’t tell Dean what happened.’ She wasn’t screaming about how much it hurt, just that you weren’t to know.”

“Why not? Bowling is a fine pastime. Not to mention you can sometimes get dollar beers.”

“Because you tease her. You can’t tease her, Dean. I mean it. She’s embarrassed enough without you making cracks about her heavy ass breaking her ankle.”

“Her _butt_ broke her ankle? That mean she fell straight down? Ouch.” The mental image of that almost put him off the food he’d put on his plate. Almost. He ate a few bites, then asked, “At least tell me there was alcohol involved.”

“Oh, there was.”

“But not from her. The two of them hadn’t started drinking yet. In fact, they’d only been there an hour.” Ellen poured herself more tea. “Drunken frat boys make accidents easy to happen.”

“Nice. How long is she here do you think? A couple days?”

“We should know more tomorrow. I’ll call Bobby then and see if he’d mind if Gwen joined me to watch over the house. I doubt he’ll mind. She can recuperate there in peace without any of you dragging her out on jobs.”

“Ellen.” Sam pushed his plate away with a hurt expression. “We wouldn’t do that.”

Sam might not, but Dean exchanged a guilty glance with Jo. They both would.

“Course you would,” was Ellen’s genial and knowing reply. A good meal and hot tea had revived her good humor somewhat. “As soon as she’s got that cast on, you’d be dragging her out claiming she can use it as a weapon.” She gestured at Jo, Sam, and Dean. “I know how you three think. Gwen’s going to Bobby’s with me.”

Dean grasped Jo’s hand in his. “Well, then this might be the time to mention that I’ve made reservations at a motel in Las Vegas for next week for me and Jo. We could go early, spend a full two weeks instead of a week and a half.”

“Dean?” Jo’s lips parted, the surprise in her eyes making a warmth gather in his chest.

“You thought I forgot it’s been six months, didn’t you?” He hadn’t forgotten, he just hadn’t been able to decide what to do for it. Nothing had seemed right, but this spontaneous decision did.

“Vegas?”

“I figure we can find a lot to occupy us both there. Gambling, shows, tourist attractions, buffets….”

“You made reservations. Actual reservations? That’s sweet.” Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’d love to go to Vegas with you. I want to get Gwen settled at Bobby’s first, though.”

“Deal.”

Ellen bumped her shoulder against Sam’s. “What do you think, Sam? Want to come to Bobby’s and help me answer phones and be Gwen’s nurse?”

“Make sure you get him one of those little miniskirt outfits to wear.” Dean smirked and tried to figure out a way to tease Gwen without letting on that he knew how it had happened. “Really show off his legs.”

Sam rolled his eyes and reached for the check.

~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of knowing Dean and Sam, Castiel had become rather familiar with hospitals, having even undergone his own stay in one. It wasn’t a period he wished to remember. He strode down the hall towards Gwen’s room, Abigael trailing behind him.

He’d found that she was so quiet sometimes he could even forget she was there. She observed more than anything, asking questions only occasionally. He’d been trying to assess how much she knew and had yet to come to a conclusion. She reminded him somewhat of how he himself had been in the beginning: innocent, naïve. Perhaps he still was a bit of those, but he’d never be fully that way again.

“Why are we here,” she asked in a low voice.

Turning his head, he looked at her as they came abreast of the door into the room. Time for a lesson on family. “Gwen is a part of Dean’s family. Humans visit family and friends when they’re in this place.”

She peered through the door and frowned. “I thought human families were blood relations and marriage. She’s not related to them by either or in any way. In fact --”

“She was told she was a Campbell, therefore, she’s a Campbell and they _are_ related. She’s family to him and since I have met Gwen on occasion and Dean is my friend, it’s not unexpected that I visit her.” Without waiting for a reply, he stepped into the room and to Gwen. “Hello, Gwen,” he said, moving to the bedside and clasping his hands together.

She opened her eyes, blinking several times before smiling in a goofy manner. “Isss doctor Cas…. Hey….”

“Hello.” She would make little sense he noticed, as her painkiller was at a high dosage. His glance slid to her ankle. It was encased in a cast and if allowed to heal naturally, would heal well, yet over time would make her walk with a limp. When she reached her sixties, if she lived that long, arthritis would set in.

“What’re you doin’ here?” She waved a hand his direction.

He blinked, thinking it was obvious. “I came to visit.”

“Sweet.”

“I could heal your ankle for you if you like?”

The question was lost however, as Gwen noticed Abigael. “Whozzat?” She squinted. “She’s pretty.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“Oooh…,” her eyes opened wide, “is she like an intern?”

He considered the definition. “I suppose the word could apply.”

Gwen snickered. “Is her name Monica?”

Abigael stepped beside him, frowning. “No, my name is Abigael.”

“Are you comfortable,” he asked.

Gwen raised her head and looked at her ankle. “Nope. I’m drugged. There’s a difference.”

Nodding, Castiel reached out, sending Gwen into sleep and easing some of her pain. He’d wait until she was coherent and out of the hospital before asking if she’d like him to heal her ankle properly. Drawing a chair to the bedside, he sat in it.

Abigael crossed her arms. “What’s the point of being here, Castiel?”

“Sit.” He made the word an order.

She brought another chair over, placing it beside his, then sat.

“You have angelic patience. We can stand waiting for hours. It’s in our nature.” He gestured at Gwen. “This here, sitting at a bedside, is human patience: waiting for a loved one to get better and not knowing when that will happen or if it will happen at all.” He’d seen Dean and Sam both do that.

“But she’ll be back on her feet in a few months. She’s not deeply injured. You and I know she’ll return to full health naturally and certainly will if one of us heals the injury.”

“Ignore what you know. Let yourself feel the emotional residue present in this room. You _can_ feel it, Abigael. Helplessness, impatience, fear, worry.”

Her stare was long and shuttered, but finally, she nodded, and sat back in the chair.

They remained in silence for hours, keeping watch at Gwen’s side.

~~~~~~~~~~

“When did you make reservations?”

Dean was expecting the question and protested, “I made reservations. I did.”

“When?” Sam opened up his bag and began taking out toiletries.

“Doesn’t matter.” He squeezed a strip of toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

“Was it more than five minutes ago?”

He was unable to help his chagrined expression and the guilty glance at Sam, who laughed.

“Oh, man Dean! You totally didn’t make reservations, did you?”

Pausing in brushing his teeth, he spit out some of the paste and replied, “Hey, I thought about it. That counts.”

“Not when you get there and you don’t have a room.” He pulled out his phone. “Gimme one of your cards. I’ll find you a nice one. Honeymoon suite, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” He dug his wallet from his pocket and handed it over. “Get us two tickets to whatever the hot shows are now, too.” He rinsed and spit.

“You had no plans made for your six months anniversary, did you?” Sam removed a credit card from his wallet and handed the wallet back.

“Wrong.” He wiped his mouth with a towel and tossed it in the direction of the sink, then returned his wallet to his pocket. “I had plenty of plans. That was the problem. I couldn’t narrow them down. I even thought of taking her to Hawaii. _Hawaii_ , Sam. That’s at least one plane one way, maybe two.”

“Hawaii is more of a honeymoon destination I think.”

“Yeah. I don’t know, just when I thought I had it figured out, I’d see an ad for something and change my mind.” He reached for his button down and put it on, rolling the sleeves up. “This is not me, Sam. I’m not indecisive. You pick a direction and go.”

“Which is basically what you did last minute.”

“True. Think she’ll figure it out?”

Sam laughed again. “Dean, I think Jo has you so figured out that even when you’re trying to surprise her you won’t surprise her.”

“At least one of us has one of us figured out. You goin’ with me to see Gwen?”

“Nah. I’ll be seeing her the whole time at Bobby’s. Take her some food.”

The suggestion was a good one, as by now, Gwen would have gotten a good taste of hospital food. Dean picked up a couple things Sam suggested and made his way to Gwen’s room. He rapped his knuckles on the open door. “Supergirl isn’t supposed to break her ankle, you know.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with the beginning of a smile. “Go away.”

“Is that any way to treat someone who brought you a decent meal?” He held up the bag from her favorite family restaurant. “I even got pie for you and didn’t eat it on the way over.”

“The sacrifice,” she replied, eyes widening. “You’re a prince, Dean.”

“Oh, I am.” Approaching the bed, he set the bag on her lap and lifted the cover off the plate on the rolling table beside her. “Mmm. Lime jello. Sure you want to miss out on that?”

She was already digging her food from the bag. “How did you know I like Stroganoff?”

He replaced the lid and put the entire tray on the empty bed on the other side of the room. “Sam. He also recommended the peanut butter chocolate pie.”

“There’s a slight chance I might have ordered both a few times when we ate together.” She shoved a forkful of noodles and sauced beef into her mouth and chewed, her expression blissful. “Mmmm…. Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sat on the end of the bed carefully, turning his attention to her ankle. “Messed it up pretty good I hear.”

“Unfortunately. But I’m being released this afternoon with strict orders to see my family doctor when I get home. Ellen and Jo are picking me up.”

“Actually, it’ll be Ellen and Sam. I’m taking Jo to Vegas for a couple weeks. She’s riding with me to Bobby’s so we can make a few extra plans on the way.”

“Finally getting to the six month, huh?” She buttered a roll. “You know, Jo thought you forgot all about it.”

“She was wrong. I actually made reservations this time and bought tickets to a show.” Well, Sam had. It didn’t feel like it had been six months already. It was like yesterday that he’d taken that gift to her on Valentine’s Day. Dean supposed that was a good thing. “We’re leaving as soon as we get you settled with Sam and Ellen at Bobby’s.”

When she was done, she put the containers in the bag and set it on the table. “I think Castiel came by last night after everyone left.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“I was a little out of it. Loopy would be the word Jo would use. He had a woman with him…I think. I might have been hallucinating that.”

“A woman? You mean like another angel?”

“Maybe.” She frowned. “I remember he said something about a mentor.”

Dean stretched his legs out and crossed his arms. “What, like he’s a mentor or she is?”

“Sure.”

Interesting. Angelic mentors? Was that Castiel’s idea or Uzziel’s? Maybe he should give Cas a holler, see what was up.


	22. Chapter 22

After getting Gwen settled, Ellen drove Bobby to the airport, leaving Sam to cater to Gwen’s needs. When they left, Sam was lying on the floor drawing a protection symbol on her cast. It was different than the one Dean had drawn. Jo had decorated the cast with a Latin phrase that meant ‘give them hell’, which, to Ellen, was funny written in Jo’s loopy flowing script.

“Now, you’re sure you can handle the pressure?” Bobby cocked a brow as he opened the trunk and began to pull out his luggage. He had one carryon, and one large suitcase. 

Ellen had gone through and repacked his bags so he could get more in them. Out of all the things Bobby could do, he wasn’t an efficient packer when he needed more than a three day change of clothes. She’d opened the paper drugstore bag Dean had slipped into one bag, checking to make sure it wasn’t something too embarrassing -- the note scrawled on it read ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’. The bag, of course, held Dean’s idea of what Bobby would need on the cruise: condoms.

Ellen could see Jodie waiting just behind the glass doors. “You’re just scared you’ll have to pay up when you get back. Save a fifty out from your drinking fund.”

“My drinking fund is for drinking. If you win, and you won’t, you’ll get your money, Ellen.”

“Cocky much?”

“Could say the same for you.”

She shut the trunk. “I’m not cocky, I’m self-assured.” She waved at Jodie. “Now go get some.”

“Nice to have your permission, ma, but I’m not ‘getting some’. It’s a friends vacation.”

“You keep telling yourself that. I’ll give you two a week alone in bathing suits before you’re spending your time in a single room and having your food brought in to you.”

He rolled his eyes, shouldered the carryon, and picked up the suitcase. “I want my house still in one piece when I come back.”

“So I should cancel the demo? I don’t know if I can get my deposit back….”

“Try not to ream anyone out too badly for bein’ stupid. The provocation will be rather extreme with a few of them. Garth, Melissa, Shawn --”

“Sam can take the phones if you’d rather, but you’re worrying for nothing, Bobby. I can handle it.”

“Uh-huh. You can handle it _and_ take care of Gwen.”

“I’m a mother. I can do anything and do several of those things at the same time. Besides, Gwen’s a grown woman and she’s got Sam at her beck and call.”

“Enjoy your smug feelings of competence.”

“Oh, I am. I’ll enjoy them right to that crisp fifty you’ll hand me when you get back.” She smiled. “Have a good flight, you old cuss. See you in three weeks.”

He smiled back, a brief twitch of his lips and was through the doors, moving faster than she’d seen him do in months. He didn’t look back. This vacation was going to do him some good. He didn’t get away often enough. Ellen was glad he had a girlfriend, even if she wasn’t a ‘girlfriend’ yet. She liked Jodie. Besides, it was sometimes nice to have the law on your side.

Ellen took her time driving back and walked into the house to the sight of Sam on the phone and Gwen flipping through two books and shouting out answers.

And so it begins, she thought, then pinched the bridge of her nose, and went to relieve Gwen of research duty.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first two days were spent mostly in their room, a beautiful suite that Jo didn’t question Dean about. He’d made a mumbled comment about it being much nicer than their website, but she pretended not to hear that. Actually, she’d expected something more along the lines of a Super8 on the edge of the city than a hotel right where the action was. An actual hotel. Not a motel, but a hotel, with all the fanciness the difference implied.

And they took advantage too. The room service, the whirlpool tub in the room, the balcony, the bed that was divine to sleep on.

At times, Dean was strangely nervous, like now, having breakfast on their tiny balcony overlooking the pool.

Jo cut a bite of strawberry banana crepes and smeared a little whipped cream on top of it. “What are you up to?”

“Who, me?” He gave her a cocky grin and cut up the biggest omelet she’d ever seen.

“Yes, you.”

“Well, I’m just contemplating that fine matinee show we’re seeing this afternoon.”

“Uh-huh. And after the matinee?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We could do some gambling.”

It was a good plan, though Jo wondered if he had any idea what the show was he’d bought tickets to. It was a new act, one that had plenty of acrobatics and dancing, but not the sort of thing she’d thought Dean would be interested in. As she watched him feign interest in the show, his eyes glazing over from boredom, she decided to take pity on him and leaned over.

“What’s say we hit the casino instead?”

He perked up a fraction. “God yes! I mean, uh, if you’re sure you don’t want to see the rest of the show.”

Jo laughed. “Honey, watching your reaction was enough of a show. I think I can bear to miss the second half.”

They made their way towards the casino and were almost across the lobby when Dean grasped her hand and tugged her back towards him. Jo went willingly into his arms. He’d stopped her directly in the center so that they were surrounded by a beautiful sheen of glass, gold, and marble. She smiled up at him. “What?”

He glanced around, fumbling with something in his pocket. “Jo, I…” A nervous laugh left him and he managed to dig whatever he was after out of his pocket. He licked his lips and held up…. A ring.

Her lips parted and Jo gasped.

“I want you to marry me. Today. Right here in Vegas. I thought, if you --”

“Yes.” She was shaking. Her hands were shaking, she could see them trembling against him.

“--want we could…. Yes?”

“Yes!” She nodded. “Yes, Dean, I’ll marry you!”

Dean grinned and took her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. 

It fit perfectly, as though sized just for her. Had he had it sized? He’d never asked what her ring size was. Come to think of it, Jo didn’t even know her ring size. 

He raised her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle just above the ring. “The office is still open for a few hours. What’s say we go get a license and pick out a place? Any one you want.”

It was easier than she’d thought to apply for a license and they were out of there quickly, choosing a chapel, picking a time to return that night. Jo’s spirits were buoyant and she took it as a good sign when they started winning in the casino. One win, two, and more, starting small, getting bigger as the day went on. Champagne began to flow, Dean insisting they celebrate. She knew he didn’t like champagne, but he was drinking it anyway because she liked it. 

They took a break for dinner and then their chosen time arrived.

The ceremony was quick, hardly feeling like a real ceremony at all, just words spoken in front of strangers, but when that gold band was on her finger…. There was such a rightness to it that her soul sang with joy. The kiss to seal their vows felt magical, a tingling warmth spreading through her. From his expression when he stepped back, Dean had felt it too. They stood staring at each other until they were ushered outside into the hall.

There was no way she was going to remember it all later, she decided, glad they had a souvenir picture to take home when it was done.

From there, they returned to the casino. More champagne, more wins.

Nothing was going to bring her down from this high.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two in the morning had come and gone by the time Sam decided it was time to get some shuteye. He was contemplating moving upstairs when his phone buzzed. Taking it out, he looked at it, debating whether or not to answer when he saw the number. Lips tightening, he answered.

“You have some nerve calling me.”

“Did she bring the boxes to you?” His grandfather’s voice was clipped, annoyed.

“Excuse me?”

“That troublemaker Arlene. She had to take them somewhere. Was it to you?”

“What does it matter?”

“They’re family papers, boy. They belong to me and they belong at the compound.”

“Maybe she burned them,” he suggested.

“If she did, that girl is in for a world of hurt. It’s family history. Speaking of family, do you happen to know where Gwen is?”

Sam shook his head. “Why do you care?”

“Because she’s family. She’s a Campbell and I like to know exactly where my own are in this world.”

He snorted. “So what, Dean and I aren’t family anymore once we stopped your little demon deal? Oh, that’s right, we weren’t ever family to you. You didn’t give a damn where Dean was at at first and then later you couldn’t have cared less where we were unless we were furthering your agenda somehow. You were willing to sell us out to get mom back. Thing is, _Samuel_ , the Mary you’d get back wouldn’t be the daughter you remember, but the mother who’d be pissed at how you treated her sons.”

“Sam --”

No. Who do you think you are?” He couldn’t help his voice raising and he heard Gwen beginning to stir on the couch. “Talking up family, then screwing us? Don’t think I buy this fake concern for Gwen. What do you want with her?”

“Her family needs her.”

“She knows where her family is and it’s not there with you.” He, Dean, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, and Castiel were her family now and all she needed.

“I need her,” was the angry reply.

“Why,” Sam countered. “Tell me why.”

“Not your damn business.”

“I’m making it my business.”

“Then you’re in for disappointment because it’s a need to know basis and you don’t need to know.”

Those words were familiar. “I’m going to say this once. Screw you and if I catch you within a hundred miles of Gwen, you’re dead.” Sam hung up, a bit surprised by the rush of anger in his veins at the thought of Samuel hurting Gwen somehow. He took several long, deep breaths until the anger faded.

She appeared in the doorway, wobbling a little on her crutches. Her hair was stuck up and matted a little on one side. The pain pills made her sleep hard. Every time he’d glanced in at her, she hadn’t moved from that first position she’d laid down in. She yawned. “Did I hear you mention Samuel’s name?”

“He wants something.”

“He’s always wanted something. What was it this time?” Sleepy cynicism colored her voice and she came forward, easing into the chair across from him.

“The archives.” He tapped a finger on the tabletop several times, then pointed it at her. “And you.”

That seemed to wake her up. “Me? What’s he want with me?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“And the archives?”

“Also wouldn’t say.”

“Huh. Maybe we should start going through those boxes?”

“If it’s quiet at all tomorrow, we could start after breakfast.”

Sam left her at the table and went to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby Singer’s house was just the right blend of harried research, frantic calls, and quiet. Gwen felt at home already. She slept better than she had the last time they were there, though maybe it was the pain pills. They tended to knock her out.

She watched Sam read, thinking about how different he was now than when she’d first met him. There was a warmth to him that hadn’t been present at first. Gwen decided she preferred this Sam to that one. A soul definitely made the difference. 

He glanced up with a little smile and back down at the book he was going through.

“So you never said why you _can’t_ have a girlfriend or kids.” Gwen paused in flipping pages in her own book. She wasn’t finding anything in it and didn’t think she would in the other book either.

“This conversation again?”

“You never answered the last time.”

Sam leaned forward in the other chair at the desk. “Well for one, because I really loved Jess and she died.”

“You were very young when that happened -- not that you’re old now, just…. You’ve got your whole life, Sam.” She could understand loving someone that much, but not the keeping himself tied to her forever part. He had so much to offer a woman. “What would she say to you about it?”

“Probably that I was being stupid and to live. That she’ll see me in heaven and I shouldn’t bury myself with her. She’d urge me to be happy.” His expression shifted, the tiniest glimmer of guilt surfacing in his eyes. “It’s not only her though. I’m Lucifer’s vessel, Gwen. If I have kids, I pass that on. Isn’t that enough to discourage procreation?”

“Do you really think your genes won’t get passed on? I mean, I may not be a religion scholar or anything, but one thing cultures agree on is that the world _will_ end someday. You stopped it now, but it’ll happen eventually. I’m betting that no matter how careful you are, some woman you have a fling with over the years will get pregnant and you’ll never know because she’s just a name in a night. Maybe it’s already happened.”

“That’s a cheery thought. Thanks, Gwen. I have to be a monk now.”

She let out an exasperated breath. “All I mean is that it’s likely out of your hands anyway.”

“It’s predestined and I have no choice? No. Bull. Dean and I faced that before. There are always choices.”

“Then do it on your own terms. If it could happen somehow anyway, wouldn’t you rather plan it your way? Actually raise your kids to know there are choices in the hard spots?”

“Pollyanna.”

“Cynic. What do you know about vessel creation anyway? Maybe not every kid could be a vessel. Maybe it’s only with certain women that have something right in them, too. Maybe if you found one you liked and Castiel could confirm somehow that she wasn’t…special that way….”

“I don’t think he _would_ confirm it.”

“Talk to him about it. It just seems stupid to me to discount that part of life completely without even trying.”

He shook his head and slammed the book in front of him shut. “Drop it.” The next book on the pile was dragged over and opened.

“No. You’re going to tell me that you’re content to sit back and watch Dean live the sort of life you want for yourself? Come on, Sam. Be honest with yourself at least. You want the girlfriend, the family. When Dean and Jo are hugging or cuddling, I’ve seen how you watch them. You’re like a little kid standing out in the cold staring through a window at a warm room, longing to be inside, only out because he won’t take that step inside.”

“That’s quite an image.”

“Am I wrong?” She raised a brow at him.

He crossed his arms. “Maybe you’re right. Slightly.”

“Thank you.”

“I said maybe.”

“It’s closer to the ‘yes’ I know is true than that ‘no’ you were spouting before. Really think about it, Sam. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“You really want me to list off things? Because I can think of a lot. The loss of people I care about is a big one. I’ve had so much loss in my life --”

“Loss is part of life. Dean’s taking that step towards what he wants. Why can’t you? Are you certain you can be content being the favorite uncle the rest of your life?”

The phone began to ring then and it hours before they could catch their breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Gwen set her mind to something, she was relentless. Sam already knew that fact, but he wasn’t sure why she’d latched on to his insistence he couldn’t have the sort of life Dean was embarking on with Jo. Gwen was determined that he could have it. While irritating that she continued to bring it up, her certainty was admirable. She really believed it. Even after being raised actively in this life, she believed it could work. 

“Do you hear that?” Ellen held up a hand.

“Hear what?” Sam stretched his legs out and leaned his head back. Even with his need for less sleep, he was ready to drop after the past few hours.

“Silence,” Gwen answered. “She means the silence.”

All of a sudden, the calls had stopped, just like Bobby had said they would. He claimed they went in cycles, but had declined to share that schedule, his smirk bordering on fiendish.

They took naps while they could, Ellen heading up to that room she’d taken as hers. Sam stayed where he was on the couch and Gwen hobbled over from the desk to join him. She propped her leg up on the couch arm and laid back on the seat cushion beside him, asleep in minutes. Sam let himself drift off. When he woke, Gwen had several boxes stacked to her right.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. I clocked you at two and a half hours. That’s some nap. Ellen went grocery shopping, brought these down for me before she left.”

He stretched. “Finding anything?”

“No. Grab a box, have a look.”

The box he grabbed was filled with papers. He took out a few, looked at them, laid them aside and reached for more. It yielded nothing interesting and he opened the next box. Halfway through it, he grabbed papers that had something between them. A picture. Sam held up the photo, unable to believe his eyes.

His mom.

He’d found a picture of his mother as a teenager and she was just as beautiful as he remembered from that time he’d met her. The picture didn’t look like it even belonged in that box to begin with, an accidental leaving that almost felt like it was just for him. He touched the picture, smiling. How old was she there? Fourteen maybe? Fifteen?

Gwen dropped a photo album into another box. “Bunch of people I’ve never heard of and couldn’t care less about. Arlene was talking out her ass, I think, because there’s nothing strange here, at least nothing I can find. Whatcha got?”

“This is only the fourth box. Bobby counted eighty-five of them.” He passed the photo to her. “That’s my mom.”

She studied the picture and handed it back. “She was pretty.”

“She was.” Sam drew out his phone and snapped a careful picture of it, then sent it to Dean with a message and tucked both photo and phone back in his pocket. Dean was going to like that. He reached for the next album in Gwen’s box and opened it. She may be bored with their finds thus far, but he was finding it interesting now that he was awake enough to study the papers and pictures. 

He wondered at some of the pictures, because few had any explanations, just names and occasionally dates. The papers were mostly clippings from newspapers, yellowed with age, and in haphazard files, like whoever had put them away had attempted to gather them in rough case files. Were these the unsolved cases? Or maybe the ones that hadn’t made the Campbell cut?

Gwen took a drink of her iced tea and leaned closer against him to see the pictures. He could smell that perfume she liked, a light whiff of scent. “That looks like my dad.”

He turned the album so she could see it better.

She slowly picked out people in the pictures. “Mom, dad, Christian….”

“Where are you?” Gwen didn’t look like her mother or her father.

“Good question. I know they took pictures of me. Dad had a camera permanently attached to his hand at one point.” Unfolding a piece of paper, she squinted at it, then handed it to Sam. “What do you make of this?”

On the paper was written ‘77.81.85.LBGC?’

“Mean anything to you,” he asked.

“I don’t know. Those could be dates, I guess. Maybe a name and year listing from another page that someone shoved in the wrong spot?” She snorted. “Hell if I know.”

“If they’re years, they’re four years apart.”

“That means what, exactly?”

“No idea.”

“That makes two of us.” She opened the last page.

Two Polaroid pictures were stuck face to face and Sam picked them up, carefully peeling them apart. One was muddy and he couldn’t make out what it was, but the other….

“God,” he murmured. “She looks just like you.”

The picture was of a pretty dark haired woman of about twenty-five by Sam’s guess, holding a baby. Standing behind her with a goofy grin was a young man likely about that age as well. At the bottom, on the white section, was scrawled ‘Aaron and Mia C. with baby Gwen.’

“Who are they,” Gwen mused, taking the picture and holding it up. “Some relatives maybe?”

“Let’s check.” Sam reached for the handwritten attempt at a genealogy they’d found, opening it and searching for anyone with those names. “There’s no Aaron or Mia in here and neither are you.”

“What?” She frowned. “That’s impossible. Let me see.” She made an outraged noise. “I should be right there.” She pointed. “There’s Christian, Mark, even Arlene. Why the hell aren’t I in there?”

“Maybe someone was trying to copy the real genealogy and never finished it?”

“I’m insulted now.”

Ellen came through the door with a grocery sack in the crook of one arm. “There’s a trunk full, Sam. I thought we could get Bobby’s grill going tonight, have some ribs, corn, potato salad….”

“You cooking Ellen?” He was all for that. The times he’d had Ellen’s cooking he’d cheerfully finished off several large helpings of whatever she fixed, even fighting Dean for thirds.

“I’ll do the inside stuff if you’ll do the manly barbecue bit. I even bought more beer.”

“I’m in. When do we eat?”

Though they discussed their findings with Ellen, she didn’t recognize Aaron or Mia or have an idea what the slip of paper meant. He saw Gwen tuck both picture and paper into her bag after dinner. Maybe when Bobby got back he’d have some ideas for them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo Harvelle had a habit of acting on impulse and occasionally, in the past, it had served her well. Other times, not so much, which was how it went with impulse. While time, age, and maturity had tempered that urge, she still did give in to it sometimes.

Like last night.

Blaming this on impulse wasn’t entirely accurate however. She could also count the heady high of their big win in the casinos, the free-flowing champagne (that had given her the headache now pounding at her temples with all of the enthusiasm of a mad doctor attempting to give her a lobotomy), and the fact that she’d really, really wanted to do it.

Opening her eyes carefully, she noted that the curtains were still blessedly closed and the lights off. Beside her, Dean was asleep on his stomach, sprawled across the king-sized bed and managing to dispute the idea that people who sleep on their stomach don’t snore. Normally, he didn’t, but this time he was snoring, a light droning buzz that added to the throbbing in her head.

Jo nudged him until he shifted and the noise stopped. Slowly, she sat up, moving in tiny, careful increments until she was sure her stomach wouldn’t rebel. She had vague memories of having a wild time with Dean until the porcelain god had demanded she worship him for awhile. She didn’t remember going back to bed. Maybe Dean had helped her? He hadn’t been quite as sloshed as she’d been.

She leaned back against the headboard. Raising her left hand, she stared at the gold bands now encircling her ring finger. One engagement ring and one wedding band that fit together like puzzle pieces. The jolt of rightness she’d felt when Dean had slid the wedding band on her finger and made his vow….

God help me, she thought. I’m Mrs. Dean Winchester now.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean opened his eyes without moving. Jo was already awake and sitting up, looking at her rings with an expression on scared wonder.

__

Mine.

The possessive thought welled up and he let it sit for long satisfied seconds. He could admit to himself that he loved and needed her. She fit well into his life and she was a good woman.

He suspected Sam had been manipulating him for months now in regards to Jo, but he didn’t really care because Sam’s thoughts on Dean and Jo’s relationship mirrored Dean’s own thoughts.

Why shouldn’t Dean marry her? Why not make their arrangement something permanent? She and others were always saying it was stupid not to live because of that fear of bad things happening. Not to mention that he’d proved he _could_ do the boyfriend thing and really was rather decent at it. All it had taken was a girlfriend who was a hunter to make it work -- just like he and Sam had hypothesized a long while back. What was stopping him besides fear?

There was nothing to be afraid of. Here he was, a married man for -- he glanced at the clock -- twenty hours and he felt perfectly fine about it. No regrets.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it.” is a quote from ‘Big Trouble in Little China’.

“You know, I used to think that hunters had to be smarter than the average person,” Sam mused, hanging up the phone. “To know what we do, do what we do, and stay alive for any amount of time. Come to find out though, half of us are bone stupid, a fourth are pretty good, and the rest just have a good Wizard of Oz backing us. This is a very disappointing revelation.”

Ellen flipped a page in a file from one of the boxes. She’d been studying it with the sort of concentration Dean usually gave a really good cheeseburger. “Who’d you talk to?”

“Alex. And Garth. Melissa…..”

“They’ll keep calling back, too. Garth has a memory like a sieve. I think Alex is just too lazy to do his own research and Melissa? Girl needs to learn looks won’t get her everywhere. I fully expect she’ll be dead in a year.”

“Don’t think I’ve met Melissa.”

“Gwen hates her. Calls her ‘Hunter Barbie’, which gave Jo the giggles for an hour, because Jo said pretty much the same thing. We helped Mel out a few times. It’s not that she’s dumb, because she’s not. She’s smart. Was a model at one point who got in the life when her photographer boyfriend took pictures of something he shouldn’t and it came after them. She’s too used to using her looks to get places, though. I keep telling her to buckle down and get serious.”

“Some don’t. Or won’t. I can’t believe how some of them are still alive when so many good ones died.”

Ellen looked up and smiled thinly. “Sam, the good ones died because we were the ones willing to take on the nasty, risky jobs to make headway in war. Now we’re left with the less than competent ones who need guidance. Those of us that remain have a duty to teach them so the bad things don’t gain any ground again.”

He nodded. “I know. The ‘next generation’ of hunters.” He wondered what Dean would say about that. Probably a few choice words.

Ellen closed the file folder and sat down. She’d been sorting folders, making a semblance of order out of what they were finding. “You seeing a pattern in these boxes, Sam?”

“They’re generational?”

“Some. No, I mean the case files.”

He slid down in his chair and propped a foot on the chair opposite him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the reoccurring theme in what we’ve seen so far.”

Sam thought a minute. The files he’d looked at were incomplete and unfinished, either abandoned or simply not recorded as finished, but there was a common thread in them. “Demons?”

Ellen nodded. “And witches. Connected. Almost like they were trying to follow certain demons and witch lines.”

“Lines?”

She smiled. “They pass down their knowledge to family, too, Sam.”

“Wait, you don’t think the Campbell’s….” He trailed off, not willing to consider that maybe his ancestors were not the sterling examples of hunters Samuel had always insisted they were.

“No, not them. I think maybe they were trying to keep tabs on some demons and witches, track them through the years and keep ahead of threats.”

“Maybe that’s why Samuel wants the boxes back. He needs them to do his work.”

“Yeah, but knowing what he was up to with Crowley makes me suspicious that he wants them for other reasons.”

“To raise another demon?”

“You think it’s possible?”

Sam laughed. It was more than possible in his opinion, it was probable. “I think he’d do anything to get mom back.”

Ellen licked her lips. “Sam…. You know I’d do anything for Jo, but if I was alive and she was still dead and had been for as many years as Mary has, I’d let her rest in peace. I’d concentrate on getting to know whatever children she’d had. Don’t you think his insistence on raising her is a little…I don’t know…a little skeevy? Why her? Why not his wife? Why not get to know you and Dean, the living?”

Sam looked away. “I’ve been trying not to think on the why, Ellen. I don’t want to know. And family to you means far more than it does to him.” He looked back at her. “I’d much rather claim you as family.”

“You’re sweet.” She reached into an open box. “There are answers here to something, I can feel it. All we have to do --”

“-- is find the needle in the haystack when we don’t know what the needle looks like or how big it is.” He took the file she held out to him and began to read.

~~~~~~~~~~

Married. 

Dean lounged on the bed while Jo went to see about getting some ice. He’d showered, but hadn’t gotten dressed yet, flipping back and forth between Motor Trend and Someone Like You while he thought about being married.

So far, it felt no different than dating Jo. He supposed it’d feel different once they began tackling the issues they’d yet to discuss. He wanted her to take his name and for them to have some sort of place together, whether it was a house or apartment. It’d be good for them both to have a room at least to call their own aside from Bobby’s house, though he was perfectly comfortable crashing there. Dean just thought Jo would like to maybe decorate her own space, have a tv that worked more than intermittently, and not be afraid to have a quickie in the kitchen for fear that her mother -- or Bobby, Sam, or Gwen -- would walk in. 

They needed to talk about hunting and make arrangements regarding it. How were they going to work cases? Was she going to stay with Ellen and Gwen and he with Sam? Would they all work together like a team; like the Campbells had? He could see advantages in that and disadvantages as well. Perhaps they could blend the two ideas? Choose cases a bit more carefully, with a sort of structured plan?

His mind whirled with ideas to bring up with her, then with Sam, Gwen, Ellen, and Bobby.

Dean laid an arm behind his head. 

His perspective was changing and he supposed maybe it was a step in growing older. After all, he was a man in his thirties now. His priorities were becoming different and he knew Sam’s were as well. They were both older and running around like they were twenty wasn’t going to cut it much longer. They needed to be mature hunters, not stupid ones, and as Bobby was always telling him, stupid hunters stagnated in their own ideas while smart ones changed what no longer worked for them. 

Bobby had certainly changed. He was always working up something new, trying out some tidbit he’d discovered from research, such as burning the bones of a demon did the same thing it did to ghosts. Hell, Bobby was even starting a romance with Sheriff Mills. That took balls. Dean decided he’d do well to imitate Bobby in some areas.

Sam was changing as well. As much as he tried to hide it, he was envious of Dean’s relationship with Jo. He tried to hide the longing, but Dean saw it. He wanted that life too. Maybe if Dean showed him it could work….

The door opened.

“Honestly, Dean….”

Jo’s voice was strange, a little off and he started to grin, thinking she was teasing when she went on, but then he wasn’t so sure and he couldn’t stop the words that came out of his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~

The rings on Jo’s finger looked every bit as good once the hangover was gone. She admired them a brief second before giving the ice machine a gentle tap with her foot. Despite the raging hangover she’d had, she’d count today as one of the very happiest in her life. Her first day as a married woman.

Jo smiled and kicked the machine again, this time harder. It made a groaning noise.

A happy day, yet daunting at the same time. Her smile faltered.

They were going to have to sort out a few legalities, like whether or not she was taking his name, not to mention how they wanted to handle that money they’d won. She supposed they could keep gambling it, but it’d be nice to keep some as reserves for buying supplies and such. She’d have to suggest that later.

And there were other things to discuss, such as living arrangements, hunting arrangements….

Her stomach made a little lurch that had nothing to do with the remnants of her hangover.

Marriage was a life changing step and they’d become engaged and married within hours.

My God, Jo thought, a sudden realization hitting her. Mom’s going to think I’m knocked up.

They were going to have to be careful how they told her about their marriage.

With a final pounding on the machine, Jo lifted the ice bucket.

The ice machine was broken, or if it worked, she couldn’t get it to produce any ice. She sighed. Oh well. They’d just get some from another floor after they came back from dinner. She left the tiny room. Fancy hotel like this, you’d think the ice machine tucked away in in a discreet room at the end of one hall would actually work. It appeared to be universal that ice machines in motels and hotels never worked. She’d rarely had luck with one. Jo turned the corner by the elevator, musing upon the things she and Dean should probably talk about first.

Standing waiting there, facing the elevator, was a man. Jo automatically assessed him. Average height, blond hair, neatly clipped beard. Looked completely bored. He glanced at her and smiled as she passed. Jo could almost feel his gaze on her and was nearly to the door to the room when he spoke.

“Oh, Jo?”

She whirled, eyes narrowing. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

The elevator dinged. “Congratulations. You and Dean make a lovely couple.” He raised a hand, waggling the fingers at her. “Ta-ta, darling.”

She hurried back towards the elevator, but he stepped in, the door closed, and he was gone.

What the hell?

A million thoughts as to who or what he could be whirled in her mind, along with the resolution to talk to Dean about it the second she walked in the room.

All was forgotten, however, the instant she opened the door and saw Dean still in his socks and underwear, lounging on the bed flipping channels. Irritation welled up, a rush she couldn’t hold in as she stepped into the room and closed the door. “Honestly, Dean. You’d think we didn’t have a reservation in half an hour.”

His expression was puzzled and he even began to grin before suddenly he frowned, annoyance traveling across his face. “Don’t nag me about it. Motor Trend is on. It’ll be off in five minutes.”

“Isn’t hard to watch it when you never actually stop on a channel for ten seconds?” She set the ice bucket down on the dresser with more force than necessary.

“I have plenty of time to get dressed and go downstairs.”

“Half an hour.” She tapped her watch with a finger. “If we’re not there, they’ll give our table away.”

He snorted. “Like there’s not about ten million restaurants in Vegas. I think we’ll be able to find a place to eat.”

“You mean another buffet. Because I like overcooked meat, soggy side dishes, and unidentifiable vegetables. The last one you picked was tops, honey.”

“I asked you where you wanted to eat. You said to pick a place so I did. There’s always room service, Miss Picky Eater.”

She crossed her arms. “So now you don’t want to take me out?”

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” she snapped, a little worried about how her mouth was suddenly disconnected from her brain at present.

“Not if you’re gonna be bitchy.”

“I’m not bitching, Dean. I’m simply suggesting you might wanna get dressed _before_ our reservation time.” Jo couldn’t stop the urge to argue, one impulse she had no control over.

“I’ll get dressed when I’m damn good and ready. Maybe I’ll go downstairs like this.” He gestured at himself.

Jo snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’d pay money to see that.”

“How much?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning had begun with blessed quiet, frozen waffles, and Ellen’s excellent coffee. Gwen lounged in her pajamas on the couch, watching Sam and Ellen do research for yet another hunter that had called, clueless on what to do. She’d undertake the task of showering with her cast in a bit, then get dressed and join them.

Ellen’s cell phone buzzed, Sam’s a second later. Gwen grabbed her own phone and waited.

“Jo, calm down….Yeah, men are stupid, inconsiderate jerks….He what?….No….Why are you upset? I thought you knew….Oh, I see….That is a heinous crime….No, that wasn’t sarcasm --” She looked at her phone. “She hung up on me.”

Across the room, Sam was having a similar conversation, looking very confused.

“She what?….Well, girls take a lot of time in the….I didn’t realize it was possible to run out of hot water in a hotel room….Oh….but you knew….No, I’m not taking her side, I’m --” He lowered his phone. “He hung up on me.”

Gwen’s phone began to buzz with text messages over and over. One would arrive before she’d even responded to the last one. First Jo, then Dean, one right after the other in a furious rush of messages that made no sense. Gwen stopped trying to reply and soon the buzzing stopped. “You know, that’s like the third time today that’s happened and it’s not even noon yet. Maybe Sam and I should head for Vegas and check it out. See what’s up. We could catch a show or two, hit one of those buffets Dean is always talking about.”

“You’re on crutches, Gwen,” he reminded her.

“But Vegas is an accessible city. If you’re concerned, we could take the wheelchair and you could wheel me around.”

“Translation,” Ellen began, “she’s bored out of her skull since the tv is on the fritz again and we haven’t actually found anything in those boxes except mysteries without apparent answers.”

“Oh, I am bored,” Gwen agreed. Usually she was pretty good at keeping herself busy, but having a cast somewhat hampered her usual activities. “I long for DIY and HGTV. BBC America. I’m so bored I’d even watch Lifetime movies right about now.”

Sam came over to her. “Why don’t we have another look at those boxes?”

She tilted her head back to look up at him. “They’re Bobby’s now, not mine and I’m sick of them.”

“Come on,” he coaxed.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But if tomorrow is like this too, where they call only to complain about each other, we head for Vegas, because Jo and Dean don’t bitch about each other like they have been. Something’s wrong.”

“I agree. Deal. We’ll give them another day and if they’re still like this, we’ll ride to the rescue.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was time for another lesson on family. This time, the emphasis was going to be on the proper loving relationship between a couple. Castiel thought Dean and Jo would be a good example. They were a romantic couple and they were loving, fully fitting his criteria. He was pleased with how well Abigael was soaking up the knowledge he had to impart. She watched him closely, listening to every word as though he was, well, _God_ talking to her.

It was nice to have someone listen to him, unlike Uzziel, who listened but did whatever he wanted anyway. Uzziel shared that irritating trait with both Winchesters. He cast a glance up at the sky, but resisted the urge to head for heaven to see what Uzziel was doing right now. Give his idea time, Castiel told himself.

He strode along the hallway towards Dean and Jo’s room, Abigael beside him, giving her a bit of background before they went into the suite. “This relationship has been a very long time coming in human standards. Dean was afraid to let himself love romantically for years, but now he’s close to admitting to Jo how much he does love her. She, like Sam, is another treasure in his heart. Saying the words is difficult for him. As for Jo, she dreamed of falling in love from the time she was small, yet the reality is much more than what she dreamed it to be. She feels blessed to have Dean in her life and is truly grateful for each moment she has with him.”

“Oh. I understand.” The words were spoken in a fervent tone and he wondered if she truly did understand or if she was trying to pretend she did because she didn’t want to disappoint him. He’d caught her at pretending she understood things a couple times already. Confronting her about it had appeared to embarrass her even.

“Then let’s go inside and you can meet them. They’re a perfect example of an affectionate couple.”

They materialized inside the room. Castiel blinked, surprised and annoyed by the scene before them. Jo and Dean were arguing with each other in a heated fashion.

“That isn’t what happened,” Jo said. “You’re exaggerating!”

“You calling me a liar?”

“If the shoe fits!”

“This is loving,” Abigael inquired with a curious lilt to her voice. He couldn’t blame her for being confused.

“They must be having an off day. Even loving couples argue on occasion.” Though he’d never seen Jo and Dean arguing in this fashion. He frowned. Their arguments had always been more in the ‘not really arguments’ category, as though they didn’t take their disagreements seriously.

Dean turned his head. “Cas? What are you doing here?”

“Do you ever knock,” Jo asked with a roll of her eyes.

Castiel gestured at Abigael. “Dean, Jo, this is Abigael, my --”

“Risa?” Dean took a few steps towards them, staring at Abigael. His gaze slid down her and back up.

She stared right back. “Risa is my vessel.”

Jo’s brows rose. “Oh, you know the _vessel_ , do you? Why am I not surprised?”

“It’s not what you think. In the future --”

“I thought I was your future.” She crossed her arms, one foot tapping.

“You are, but Zachariah --”

“That dick?”

“Yeah, that dick. He took me to the future and _she_ was there.”

“Swear you didn’t have sex with her. Swear it.”

“I didn’t.” He shrugged. “My future self did apparently, but I didn’t.”

“Oh, really. Where was I in this future?”

“Hell if I know. He didn’t show you as being there.”

“Because I was dead or because you just didn’t see me there?”

“Did I or did I not just say I didn’t know? Cas, back me up.”

Castiel blinked. “Oh, um…. Jo --”

She turned to face him with a hurt expression on her face. “You’re taking his side? Why? Because you’re his friend? I thought we were friends, too. Maybe Risa here should be on my side then, even the odds.”

“Actually, it’s Abigael,” Abigael attempted to interrupt. “My vessel is --”

“A show of solidarity between women. Women Dean Winchester has screwed!” Jo grabbed a pillow, threw it at Dean, and went into the bathroom, slamming the door. Her sobs were loud and clear.

“You see what I’m dealing with,” Dean demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bathroom door. “It’s like she’s gone premenstrual crazy or something.” He turned and went onto the balcony.

Castiel looked at Abigael and gestured to the bathroom door. “Go in and calm her down.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re female now and women do that.”

“I don’t know how.” Uncertainty flickered in her eyes and she shook her head.

“From what I’ve observed the main thing to do is listen and if she calls Dean any names, just agree with her, and tell her you understand. Don’t attempt to reason with her and don’t add to her anger.”

“Castiel --”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Consider it a crash course in human interaction.”

Abigael nodded and disappeared.

Castiel went onto the balcony. “What exactly is the problem here, Dean?”

“I told you. She’s premenstrual or something. What’s with Risa?”

“She’s no longer Risa. Risa is the vessel. Her name is Abigael and she’s a part of that program Uzziel began.” He drew in a long breath. “I’m a mentor.”

“Gwen said something about that. I assumed it was either you were a mentor or you were mental, one of the two.” Dean leaned on the railing. “I don’t know what’s happening, man. We got married on impulse a couple days ago and it’s been like cats and dogs since. We’re arguing over the stupidest shit, too, but I can’t stop and obviously she can’t either, like puke that just spews out. Bicker, bicker, bicker. It’s been one big, long argument over nothing.”

“You married her?” He wasn’t surprised by that action really, merely that it had come so soon. He’d thought there’d be a few more months before Dean gathered his courage to take that step.

“You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not. I like Jo. She…complements you nicely.” He tried to understand why Dean was upset. All couples did argue on occasion, right? It was normal. Even if they’d never really argued before, it was normal to do so sometimes. Wasn’t it? Castiel considered what Dean had said about Jo being premenstrual and remembered what premenstrual meant. He blinked with a sudden idea. If they’d just gotten married, perhaps they hadn’t had intercourse because she was premenstrual. That would put Dean in a bad mood, especially since he really enjoyed sex. To not have it with his new wife would be upsetting. “So you’re…upset you’ve not had relations because she’s premenstrual?”

“Rela….” He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, you mean sex. No, no, we don’t have a problem with sex any time. We’ve had sex the past few days, Cas.” His grin was wide and pleased. “A lot of sex. Make-up sex. Adventurous sex. Sex just to _have_ sex. Her libido has been super-sized since the vows. Now that’s the thing to say yes to for super-sizing, right?” He whistled. “Adventurous…. Like dominatrix adventurous, if you catch my meaning.” His smile faded and he patted Castiel’s shoulder. “Never mind.”

“I understand what a dominatrix is and does, Dean.” He’d figured that out….finally.

“Good. ‘Cause that’s useful information. No, even arguing we’re all over each other in bed. That’s good though, right?”

“For a loving couple, yes. I’m certain this will pass soon.” He tried to find a neutral topic. “What made you decide to marry now without family and friends with you?”

“You gonna make a big deal out of this? Because I don’t need your permission to get married.” His tone turned belligerent. “I’ll marry that woman in there if I damn well want to and I did, so deal with it. And start calling first. No popping in when Jo’s naked, either. Get your own woman.”

Castiel peered at Dean, giving up on keeping the restrictions Dean wanted in place and taking a tour of his thoughts. “Dean --” How odd. Dean’s emotions and thoughts were all over the place in wild fluctuations. He was out of balance more so than usual. Why? What was different? Now that he’d noticed a definite change, Castiel began to systematically search for the reason for that change.

“Maybe you should have that Risa Abigael chick. I think she’s got a crush on you,” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

“That’s ridiculous.” Castiel rolled his eyes, pausing in his attempts to figure out what was wrong. “You saw her for less than a minute.”

“But the way she looked at you…. Like you’re Mick Jagger giving her a backstage full-access pass. More than a little hero worship going on there.”

“You saw her for less than a minute,” he repeated.

“I’m right.” He held up a finger. “Mark my words, Cas, that little angel has the hots for you.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Abigael appeared beside him. She was distressed, eyes wide. “We should go. I think I failed in my task. I’m sorry, Castiel, but I don’t think I’m ready for human interaction.” She fled before he could reply.

“I have to go, Dean.” He needed to follow her, calm her, speak to her, and when he’d done that, he’d return and see if the problem had resolved itself.

“Be safe,” Dean said. “Remember to use protection. She may be an angel, but some of you can be little devils.”

Castiel shook his head and followed Abigael’s trail.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen hung up the phone and batted her lashes at Sam. “So, what show do you want to see first after we’ve taken care of whatever is wrong with them?”

He sighed. “Not the one I got tickets for Dean and Jo to see.”

“I’ll see anything, sit in the nosebleed section, you name it, I’ll go.”

“You’re that bored?”

She gave a half shrug. “Not really. Aren’t you intrigued by what’s going on with Dean and Jo, though? Come on, Sam. They’re complaining about each other. I’ve never heard Jo complain about Dean except in ways like, ‘yeah, I hate the way he squeezes the toothpaste tube and that’s why we use different tubes’.”

He nodded. “Dean’s the same way. Actually, I’m very worried about them. It’s just not natural for them to be like this. I’ve been trying to narrow down the things that could have happened and what could be doing it and there’s too many without seeing them.”

“What are we waiting for?” She grinned and slipped on sunglasses. “Let’s hit the road.”

A little less than ten minutes later, they were headed for Las Vegas, leaving Ellen to hold down the fort.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ellen Harvelle braced herself. This was the hour that would make or break that bet she’d made with Bobby. Honestly, she hadn’t considered the time with Sam and Gwen helping to be fair. She needed to do this the same way Bobby did. Alone. Just her and Bobby’s daily life.

She put on a little music, put her hands on her hips, and said, “Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

****

One hour after Gwen and Sam left:

Ellen answered the door.

“Uh…Ellen?” Rufus blinked. “I heard you were dead.”

“Not quite. Bobby didn’t tell you?”

“No…” His voice was distracted and he peered around her at the hallway. “So, is, uh, Bobby here?”

“He’s on vacation for three weeks.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “You any good at digging?”

She pointed to her shoulder. “Nope. Bum shoulder. Can’t lift, can’t dig.”

“Shame. Know where the keys to the backhoe are?”

Ellen looked past him at the tarp-covered back of his truck and sighed. “I’ll go get them.”

****

Two hours later:

“No Garth, you have to use iron. Are you really that stupid?” She listened a moment. “No, I’m not coming on to you. How do you get that from anything I’ve said the last six times you’ve called?”

The CDC phone began to ring.

“Never mind. I don’t think I want to know how your mind works. Use iron, I gotta go.”

****

Half an hour later:

“Melissa, sweetie, you have to use the correct pronunciation of Latin for it to work. Don’t you remember Army of Darkness? Never fudge the pronunciation or word. Now go back in there and repeat everything I tell you and if you don’t say it verbatim, I’ll just let the damn thing eat you.” She cradled the phone between ear and shoulder and found the right page in the reference book. “Yeah, I’ll give you a good eulogy if it does, making sure to mention the fact that you mispronounced the Latin as an object lesson.”

****

Three hours later:

“Are you making fun of my name? I’ll have you know that ‘Lou’ is short for Louise….” She rolled her eyes and rubbed her aching shoulder.

****

Another two hours later:

“Oh, and Shawn? You ever call my daughter a ‘tasty piece of ass you’d like to sink your teeth into’ again and you won’t be getting anything for the rest of your miserable life.” She nodded. “Sweetie, I’ll cut it right off.” Ellen smiled. “Glad you understand me. Good luck with that Banshee.”

****

3:32 a.m.:

The sound of the phone jerked Ellen from an uncomfortable position slumped over at the table. She answered with a yawn, mildly ashamed that she listened to the heavy breathing on the line for over a minute before demanding to know who it was.

“What are you wearing,” was the panted, wheezing reply.

It took Ellen’s sleep fuddled brain a moment to realize that voice was familiar. “Rufus? Why are you giving me an obscene phone call?”

“What are you wearing,” he repeated.

“You’ve about ten seconds to explain yourself or I’ll shoot your ass the next time I see you.”

“Huh? I mean, are you dressed or in your nightie? I’m halfway across the field to the west dragging….” His voice was garbled for several seconds. “Rather not wait while you get dressed.”

“I’m dressed.” She looked down at herself. She’d fallen asleep in yesterdays clothes, hadn’t had a proper meal or shower since Sam and Gwen had left, and was seriously considering unplugging the phones to get some real sleep.

She now understood the bulk packages of NoDoz Bobby had stacked on one dresser upstairs.

“Good. Can you meet me with the backhoe?”

“Bobby should charge you a plot fee.”

“Don’t tell him that!”

She hung up and went to get the keys, casting a glance to the stacks of books open over every flat surface available. She was having a sinking feeling that she was going to lose that bet she’d made with Bobby.

~~~~~~~~~~

Uzziel sat in on a few classes. He’d sat through slang, the dining class, and the hygiene class, yet he still wasn’t sure it was enough. He felt he was woefully undereducated on the matter of humans and in order to run this program better, he needed a full understanding. He needed the sort of interactions that Castiel had.

I have to get my hands dirty, he thought. Really, amazingly dirty.

But where should he go and who should he observe and interact with?

He was contemplating that action when Balthazar approached him.

“I’m deeply hurt that you cancelled my little dance class. Some of those vessels were scrumptious.”

“It wasn’t a dance class.”

Balthazar shrugged. “Have you seen their dancing? There’s not actually much difference.”

“No, I haven’t.” But now he wanted to.

“Ahhh….” He crossed his arms. “Thinking about a tour of duty among the natives are you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Have you decided where to go? Florida? Texas? Colorado? I hear South Dakota is excellent this time of year.”

“What’s in South Dakota?”

“Someone I understand you’ve already interacted with.”

Uzziel had no trouble following Balthazar’s train of thought, though Castiel’s words of warning about doing anything Balthazar suggested stuck in his mind. “You mean the Harvelle woman. Ellen.”

“I do. Now she’s the sort of woman who can show an angel a lot. Did you see how she treated Cas before she died? I think if she’d survived and the Apocalypse gone on….” He shrugged. “I’ll bet dear Cas would have had quite the education before the end.”

“You think I should see her. Speak with her, interact with her.”

“Very much so. And you’ll be getting to know one of Castiel’s friends. Where is the harm in that?” With a smirk, Balthazar sauntered off, no doubt looking for some sort of trouble to get into. 

The discreet guard he’d put onto Balthazar’s trail nodded ever so slightly and followed.

Where was the harm indeed? It wasn’t like he was abandoning duty or anything like that. He was simply having a bit of independent study in the matter of humans. Human women, to be precise. Castiel would understand that, right?

“Jael,” he said.

“Uz?” He came forward, clipboard in hand. He was wearing one of the new t-shirts Uzziel had had made that had Castiel’s face on the front and ‘A.M.P.’ across the back. “You need something?”

“I’m going down to earth for a couple days.”

“Want me to find Castiel and tell him?”

“No, don’t bother him. He’s busy mentoring. Handle the convention and if anything needs my attention, I’ll be in South Dakota.”

“Okay, boss.” Jael adjusted the dark framed glasses he didn’t actually need and made a note on the top paper on the clipboard.

Uzziel slipped down to earth, located Ellen Harvelle, and joined her in her automobile. “Hello, Ellen Harvelle.”

The car swerved and she made a noise of surprise, followed by a string of rude epithets. “Son of a bitch!”

“I wasn’t born of a mother or dog.”

“You couldn’t have given me back all of my memories?”

“I put you in a place where you’d be found. At the time, I could do little else.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Like you guys ever tell the truth. Cas is the only decent one among you.”

Reaching out a hand, he touched her shoulder and sent a tendril of healing power through her body, easing that ache that was affecting her mood. “There. You’re healed of your present injuries. Am I forgiven?”

“Do I have to?” She pulled into a parking lot.

“It would please Castiel if we were on pleasant terms. He’d prefer if all of us get along with his human friends.”

Ellen snorted and parked the car. “Fine. What’s your name again?”

“Uzziel. Former general to Raphael, now second-in-command to Castiel.”

“Lucky him.”

“He is lucky. I’m,” he searched for the proper phrase, “quite a catch.”

She gave him a funny look. “Uh-huh. Didn’t think Cas swung that way.”

“Excuse me?”

She leaned her head back against the seat. “Do you even know what ‘quite a catch’ means?”

“It means I have many desirable attributes, which is entirely true. I’m a very desirable angel to have as second-in-command.”

“It means that, true, but usually in a personal, romantic relationship way.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, checked her thoughts to make sure she was serious, then drummed his fingers on the armrest. “That wasn’t in the handout.”

“Handout?”

Uzziel launched into a long explanation as they got out of the car and walked towards the store. Ellen’s glances became more and more amused as he spoke and he continued to check her mind to make sure it really was the case.

“Okay, so let me get this straight.” She led him inside the store, wheeling a metal cart in front of her. “You’ve started a program where you all take classes about us in order to understand us and when the classes are over, you’ll be pairing up and coming down here to try out these new-found skills among the unsuspecting human populace.”

“Yes. That’s an accurate summary of the program.”

“God help us,” she murmured in a low voice he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge that he’d heard. Castiel had told him that when they mutter, usually it meant they didn’t want anyone to hear what was said. But if that was the case, then surely thinking it would be the better, wiser option? “The angel Gwen said Castiel had with him is in the program?”

“She is. Abigael was highly recommended, having been in our library for centuries in the human history section. I chose her specifically for Castiel to mentor because…. Well, just between you and me, Joshua said God told him I should and since Joshua is the only one who’s had contact with God…. I did what he said.”

“Does Cas know that?”

“No. He’s not supposed to know.”

“Oh.”

A giggly girl of approximately nineteen years passed them, turning to look at him, her stare bold and clothing almost nonexistent. He smiled. She grinned back and disappeared around the end of the aisle. “Friendly town,” he mentioned.

Ellen laughed. “You looked in a mirror, Uzziel? You’re easy on the eyes.”

“Not as much so as Castiel. He’s a very handsome angel.”

“I can’t comment on his true form, but his vessel is attractive.”

“He’s the face of new heaven, you know, Ellen.” He studied the store, noted the fresh foods to one side and the rows of other items in cans, boxes, and bags. All of the sorts of things people needed to live. This was the experience he needed.

She put a container of strawberries in the basket. “Is he now?”

“He is. I’ve got his face on pamphlets, posters…t-shirts.”

“T-shirts?” Amusement was high in her tone.

“I could give you one, if you like.”

Ellen’s lips twitched. “I think I’d like that.”

“We’re using both vesseled and true form depending on the department. I’ll get you one of the vesseled shirt pictures. Some departments are more willing to accept the true form while others are embracing vessels. It’s amazing. After all these centuries, we’re finally united in what God wanted from us from the creation of humans. Understanding. Love. Eventually, we’ll even have fellowship, standing among you and none of you will realize it.”

“You’re a talkative one, aren’t you? Castiel’s more the silent type.”

“He’s an angel of few words. Admirable. Highly intelligent. For such a large angel, one wouldn’t expect him to be so scholarly. I mean usually the taller and bigger angels are --”

“Wait a minute.” Ellen stopped pushing the cart and turned, holding up a hand. “Tall, big? You’re referring to Castiel?”

“I am. As angels go, he’s built rather like…um…” Uzziel searched for a similar comparison. “The football star to petite human?”

“He’s above average in height and build.”

“Yes.”

Ellen blinked twice. “You don’t say. So when you stand beside him in true form, is it like…me standing beside Sam Winchester?”

“Similar.”

“Ain’t that something.” She turned and pushed the cart to the end of the aisle. “You comin’?”

“May I observe you and interact with you for a few days, Ellen?”

“As long as you stay out of my way, I suppose.”

His path decided, Uzziel smiled again and followed Ellen as she shopped.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Happy Heart’ is by Andy Williams.

Castiel found Abigael two states over, sitting on a fallen log by a lake. She was hunched over and still upset. Slowly, he joined her, sitting in a similar bent position and turning his head to look at her. “What happened?”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them and took a long breath. “I made her angry. I was doing what you said, but it didn’t help.”

“You’re not to blame. The current situation between Dean and Jo is not a natural one. Something is driving a wedge between them that under normal circumstances isn’t there.”

She sat up straight. “I didn’t mess up?”

“No.”

A slight relieved smile played at her lips. “I was afraid I’d damaged matters.”

“No. The fault is squarely upon outside influences.”

“Do we fix the situation, then? _Can_ we fix it?”

He stared out at the water. Actually, that was a tough question to answer. His knee-jerk reaction was to definitely fix it because it was causing strife and emotional pain between two people he cared about.

However, upon further consideration, perhaps they should merely observe at present, see how it played out, and if it looked like serious harm would befall Dean, Jo, and others, they’d become involved. Castiel remembered well that talk he and Sam had had awhile back. It had been the same one where they’d discussed him healing them all the time. Sam had taken that discussion further in private.

Sam maintained that while it was good they were friends and they should continue to cultivate that friendship, Cas was too inclined to step in when they should be handling things themselves. Not that they didn’t appreciate his help, because they did. He’d aided them well on many occasions. The problem was, having an angel as a friend had given both Dean and Sam a feeling of invulnerability, a cockiness that could end up endangering them and others. They needed to relearn how to rely on human resources. ‘Even parents allow their children to go through pain,’ Sam had pointed out and Castiel had to agree with that and apply it to the current situation. 

As much as he loved Dean and Jo, they needed to try fixing whatever was wrong themselves or through human assistance first. The decision wasn’t one he thought Dean would agree with. He decided not to tell Dean.

“No,” he told Abigael. “We return, watch, and help only if they pose a danger to themselves or others.” Saying it made his chest ache a bit, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

“We watch?” She tucked her hair behind her ears, a curious glint in her eyes.

“Yes.”

“But…you care about them, Castiel.”

“I do. At the same time, we, as angels, need to cultivate the wisdom of when to help and when to let situations play out. Right now, we’ll let it play out.”

Abigael nodded. “Very well.”

They returned to the city and stayed out of sight, observing as matters progressed. Several times, Castiel had to restrain himself from appearing and taking action. All the while, he was aware of Abigael watching both him and Dean and Jo, taking it all in.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Sam drove, he thought about the diary he’d found tucked in the papers of one box -- Gwen’s mother’s diary. It wasn’t a hunter’s diary exactly, more like a general database of dates, weather conditions, locations, and personal notes, such as that she was sick or one of the others was sick. Things like that. He’d been skimming the entries for information and as he’d skimmed, a suspicion about Gwen had begun to grow.

Gwen wasn’t a Campbell and he fully believed that.

Sam had come to that conclusion because during the time Patricia would have been very pregnant with Gwen, he’d found a picture of her looking slim and trim, that picture obligingly dated. Nor had Patricia made any mention of being pregnant like the other two times in the diary. Sam hadn’t shown Gwen the diary or picture yet, wanting to be sure before he talked to her about it. Why upset her if there was a reasonable explanation he’d yet to come across? He simply wasn’t sure what that explanation could be except that she wasn’t a Campbell.

Some of the things about her childhood made definite sense now, like the taunting of others that she was a ‘changeling’. Of course the older kids would have realized she wasn’t Neal and Patricia’s daughter, but if sworn to secrecy for some reason, they’d find a way to tease her. And had. Add to that how Gwen didn’t look a thing like Neal and Patricia. Plus, she’d once told him she wasn’t like them at all.

He glanced at her. She was looking out at the scenery along the highway, singing along to the music. She had a good singing voice, much better than Dean, the song actually sounding like the song.

His money was on the mysterious couple in that picture they’d found being her real parents. Aaron and Mia C.. Who were they? Other hunters? A civilian couple? How had they been connected to the Campbell family and why _not_ tell Gwen about them? What had the Campbells been hiding and why? Was it part of the reason Samuel wanted Gwen? Sam was becoming more and more curious and he knew if he presented it all to Dean, they’d suddenly be hot on the trail of this mystery, tracking down leads and working it like they worked current cases.

Ellen was convinced the answers were there somewhere, but Sam wasn’t so sure. There was a gap in the dates on the files, like someone had taken some of the boxes. Samuel perhaps? He was almost tempted to contact him about them. Almost. He didn’t want to give Samuel any reason to come to Bobby’s house.

“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Gwen commented, turning her head to look at him. Her hair was whipping about in the breeze from the open windows and she looked relaxed. Getting out on the road had perked her right up, though he wondered how perky she’d still be after the twenty hours or so of driving it took to get to Las Vegas. They were driving until he got tired, then stopping and driving again, which, with meal breaks, should put them there sometime mid-morning tomorrow.

He turned down the music. “Got a lot we’ve been looking at. Trying to get it all figured out.”

She leaned her head back. “Relax, Sam. Let it go for a day or two. Don’t think about it and maybe something will click.”

“That work for you?”

“On occasion. Usually waking me from a sound sleep at three a.m..”

He laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

After a moment she asked, “What do you think is wrong with Dean and Jo?”

“Hexed object maybe? Got on the wrong side of a witch?” In all honesty, he had so many ideas in his mind about that he couldn’t latch on to just one.

“You have witches on the brain.”

“Hazard of studying those files. Did you know they traced a family from England 1698 all the way over here to 1923?”

“Then they lost them?”

“Doesn’t say. Just no more entries. Maybe they lost them, maybe they killed them.”

“Huh.” She sighed. “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll figure it out,” she said in a cheerful tone.

Sam studied her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re awfully happy,” he remarked.

Gwen grinned. “I popped a pain pill. This is a pain free zone at present.”

“That explains your mood.”

“Don’t worry, Sam.” Leaning over, she patted his leg. “I’m timing them so that by the time I need to be a bitch again, they’ll have worn off.”

He turned the radio back up. “Well then, enjoy your pain free moment.”

“I am.” Sitting back up, she closed her eyes and Sam let her doze.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a crow on the balcony railing.

Dean stared at it. It stared back. It hadn’t blinked once. Did birds blink though? Creepy. If he didn’t think anyone would report it, he’d shoot the damn annoying thing. It had been out there for the past hour just watching them roll around on the bed together -- _and_ it had still been there after his shower. He slouched down in the chair and crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

He could hear Jo humming as she got out of the shower. The bathroom door opened the rest of the way, a cloud of fragrant steam slipping out into the room. Dean tapped a foot. Maybe he should shoot it anyway.

The crow cocked it’s head.

He’d swear it could read his mind even.

“I’m goin’ friggin’ nuts,” he announced.

“This is news?” 

In the reflection on the glass, Dean watched Jo drop her towel and begin to get dressed.

The bird hopped along the railing and Dean focused on it. Was it his imagination or had the bird just moved to where it could see Jo getting dressed? It had, hadn’t it? The crow was ogling his naked wife!

With a sudden surge of paranoia, Dean got up and closed the curtains. Outside, the crow squawked, sounding for all the world like it was cussing him out.

“What’d you do that for?” Jo drew a t-shirt on. The fabric hugged her curves like a second skin.

“Sun’s coming around. It’ll get hot in here if we leave it open.” That even sounded halfway reasonable.

“Uh-huh.” Stepping to the wall, she turned the air on high. “Problem solved. Open the curtains. It’s not like anyone can see in here, Dean. We’re near the top of the building. Open them.” 

And see that bird again? No. “Let’s leave them closed. Then when we come back, it’ll be really cold in here and we can pretend it’s the Arctic winter and we have to bed down naked together to keep warm. You can be my Eskimo woman and I’ll be a lost American you found wandering in the cold.”

Jo stared at him for several seconds. “You do like your fantasies, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?”

“At least this one doesn’t require me to dress up in a costume,” she muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo had the strongest feeling that the crow they kept seeing was the same one and that it was following them. She looked out the restaurant window at it, attempting to ascertain if it was the same one and finally giving up. It looked like a crow, a plain, old, squawking, annoying crow.

It had been on their balcony all morning, sat outside when they shopped, and remained near when they went to the pool. Now it was outside the restaurant while they had a late lunch. Suspicious, but it still didn’t look like something odd. Maybe Dean’s paranoia was wearing off on her. It couldn’t be the same crow, right? There were tons of birds around.

As they stepped into the casino, Jo noticed that blond man from the elevator and grabbed Dean’s arm, pointing. “There! There he is! Do you see him?”

“See who?”

“The man! The man from the elevator!”

“What man?”

“From the elevator the other day!”

“What elevator?”

“The one in our hotel.” She looked around, craning her neck, but he was suddenly gone. “Where’d he go? He was just there!” Jo frowned. How could he be there and then not?

“Oh good. Now you’re seeing things that aren’t there. How many fingers am I holding up?”

She glanced at him. He wasn’t holding any up. “None.”

He reached for her, fingers sliding through her hair along her scalp. “You could have told me you hit your head when we fell off the bed last night trying out that new…move.”

Ducking, she tried to evade his hand and still search the casino for the man. “I didn’t hit my head last night.”

“Would you tell me if you had?”

“No -- ouch!” His fingers caught in her hair, a sharp burst of pain making her wince. “It’s all attached, you know!”

“See how you are? Stand still, I’m checking for a goose egg.”

“I don’t have a goose egg because I didn’t hit my head. Cut it out!”

“Doesn’t feel like you have a goose egg.”

“You think?”

Having established that she didn’t have a goose egg, they headed for the slot machines. Jo had lost interest in gambling the day before, when it was apparent they were on a winning streak. It simply wasn’t a challenge if they were always going to win.

Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when they won yet again.

~~~~~~~~~~

They had an hour to make their way to the rendezvous with Sam and Gwen. Dean was allowing extra time for traffic and any mishaps that could possibly happen. He stalked to the elevator, not looking to see if Jo was following him. He stabbed a finger at the down button several times, continuing to hit it even after it lit up.

“You know it makes no difference if you hit it over and over, right? It’ll still get here in the same amount of time.”

“I’ll remind you of that when you hit the lobby button over and over.”

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. They stepped into the elevator to go downstairs. No one got on with them and there was no one to get off. He noticed Jo carefully pressed the lobby button only once, giving him a dirty look as she did so. 

Soft strains of music played.

“…there can be no other for their love. It’s my happy heart you hear….”

Dean gritted his teeth and glared up at the speaker. “Are you as sick of this song as I am?” Everywhere they went, they kept hearing this stupid song. Over and over. Andy Williams. ‘Happy Heart’. He was going to start howling if he heard it one more time. They couldn’t get away from it. Some guy had even sung it at karaoke. Too bad Jo hadn’t gone before that guy since she’d managed to break the microphone when she’d gone to sing.

“…all because you’re near me my love….”

“I kind of used to like this song once,” Jo replied, “but now it’s getting annoying. You’d think there’d be more variety of background music in Vegas.” She flicked her glance to him. “I can’t believe you’re actually wearing that shirt in public, Dean. It needs to meet a trash can and run off happily ever after with it.”

“Hmmph. Let’s talk about your little ensemble. Couldn’t find a shirt to fit you?

“It’s practically up to my neck.”

“If by neck you mean nipples. You’re nearly topless.”

“It covers me.”

“Barely.”

They snorted in unison and stepped out into the lobby. Dean led the way into the parking garage, looking forward to driving for awhile and getting out of the city. He wondered what Sam and Gwen wanted. The two were coming to Vegas and wanted to meet them for some reason.

Nearly twenty-five minutes later, Jo cleared her throat. “What, you can’t remember where you parked?”

“I can remember where I parked.” He couldn’t help the irritation that colored his voice.

Obviously he didn’t remember however. The Impala wasn’t where Dean remembered parking her. She was in this parking garage, he knew it, but they’d walked through all the levels without finding her.

“I think you parked in the deck across the street.”

“I didn’t park across the street. My baby is lost.” He shook his head. “No, she’s been stolen. I hope she gives whoever stole her hell. It’ll be a vacation compared to when I catch up with them.”

“Let’s look across the street.”

“No. I parked here.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Okay, you parked here, but let’s go --”

“No. I’m not going across the street. She’s here.” He knew he was being stubborn, but damn it, he remembered parking in this garage!

“You just said she was stolen.”

He didn’t answer.

“Dean, she’s either here, and she’s not because we’ve been all over this garage twice now, or she’s been stolen, or _maybe_ , possibly, you got JK’s Parking confused with KJ’s Parking across the street.”

He stopped walking. “If you’re so sure you’re right, you go look, sweetheart.”

“Fine, I will.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Wonderful.”

“I’m going.”

“Happy hunting.”

He was back on the top floor when his phone buzzed. It was Jo. She’d sent him a picture of the Impala in the parking garage he knew he hadn’t parked in. What the hell was going on?

He and Jo were arguing non-stop, they fell off the bed together, accidentally injured each other in minor ways…. They’d become clumsy. Then there were the misplaced items, some of which had caused a panic, like Jo’s missing birth control pills and the misplaced condoms. Now the Impala wasn’t parked where he’d left her. Strangely enough, however, they were still golden in the casinos, winning wherever they went.

Dean joined her.

Jo leaned against the passenger door. “Well?” She crossed her arms, the movement pressing her breasts up and deepening her cleavage. Really, that shirt was indecent. It was too tight. Some other guy might look at her. She needed to cover up. Sweatshirt, maybe, or parka.

“Well, what?”

“You going to unlock her so we can go meet Sam and Gwen?”

“Of course.” He dug in his pockets and came up with coins, a couple tootsie rolls, the room card, a condom he didn’t remember putting there, and no keys.

“Let me guess. You left them in the room.”

“Maybe.” Dean would swear he’d put the keys in his pocket. “You stay here.”

“And make sure Christine doesn’t move herself again?”

“Funny. I’ll be back.”

He found the keys on the dresser right beside his wallet.

“I’m losin’ my freakin’ mind,” he muttered, putting the wallet in his pocket and grabbing the keys. That had become his almost hourly refrain the past day.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Ellen had misgivings about Uzziel hanging around, she thought she should be gracious about it. After all, he’d helped Castiel win the war and was apparently helping put heaven back together. Or something to that effect.

She smiled at their server as she brought the pizza and dished up a slice for both of them.

Uzziel stared at the pizza as though he wasn’t sure it was fit to eat.

Ellen picked up her own slice and took a hearty bite. By the time she’d swallowed, he’d carefully picked up his own slice and taken a small, nibbling bite. “How much experience do you have with humans,” she asked, getting the feeling as the day went on that he was big on talk and low on practical experience. He had that ‘stranger in an extremely strange land’ vibe going on and didn’t appear to quite ‘get’ what he’d learned. If all the remaining angels were like that, they were in for quite the culture shock when they came to earth.

He swallowed. “What spice am I tasting?”

“Garlic.” She waited, taking another bite. “There’s an entire bulb of it on the pizza.”

“Ahh. Interesting. Experience? Well, to be honest, not much. See, it wasn’t the thing to socialize with the hairless apes…uh…humans. And then when I _did_ get a vessel, it was merely to move between heaven and earth with some ease on the tasks first Michael, then Raphael asked of me. Since hooking up with Castiel…”

Ellen smothered a snicker. With him around, it was too easy for her mind to stay in the gutter.

“…I’ve spent much of my time in heaven, organizing the angels, going through the information we gathered. My personal experience has been limited.” He picked at the pizza, peeling it apart the same way Jo had as a child, separating the ingredients into neat piles on his plate and tasting them one pile at a time. Peppers, olives, onions, cheese, meat…. “I’m willing to learn, Ellen. Knowing God is still involved in some way makes me want to embark upon that path He approves of and that is this one. He obviously approves of Castiel, so I wish to aid Castiel. To do that, I need understanding I lack.” Uzziel picked up a slice of pepperoni and ate it, making a disgusted face as he chewed. “My vessel dislikes pepperoni and I do as well.”

“Don’t eat it. You picked everything all off anyway.”

He stared at her with that same confused expression Castiel used on occasion. “How was I to experience the individual flavors of the ingredients if I didn’t? To take this dish as a whole and appreciate it, I need to know what the individual flavors are and taste how they blend together.”

She reached for another slice. “You’re a chef in the making.”

“Do you believe so?”

He sounded pleased by that and she sprinkled parmesan on the slice on her plate. “Sure. Why not? You can have your own tv show. Angel Chef.” It was meant as a joke, but he perked up.

“Ellen, that’s brilliant! I could get involved in the AMP classes by teaching a cooking class. Just the basics to begin with. A sister course to the dining class.”

She blinked and he was gone. “Oh, well…. Glad to be of assis --” He was back, smiling wide.

“I’ve got Jael working up a syllabus now. Thank you, Ellen.”

“Who’s Jael?”

“My assistant. Very organized. Castiel has one too, though he tends to give him the slip often. Do I have that phrase right? Give him the slip? Means to slip away unnoticed?” At her nod, he continued. “I couldn’t get a thing done without Jael. He thinks your idea is brilliant, too.” Uzziel slapped one hand on the table. “I _knew_ coming here to you was the right thing to do.”

In Ellen’s opinion, that remained to be seen.

She wanted to stay away from Bobby’s house as long as possible. He’d mentioned that he sometimes stayed in the library to do research, so she’d claim she’d done that if asked. The only one who might ask at present was Garth and he’d decided she was coming on to him every time he called. Lord, she hoped he didn’t think that about Bobby! Garth wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb around.

What sort of experiences could she give Uzziel that wouldn’t be too stressful for her? A movie maybe?

They went to see a movie and it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her that Uzziel’s talking through it got them kicked out, as she vaguely remembered Dean telling her about Castiel getting him kicked out of a movie theater once. Uzziel was pleased by the experience. Ellen wasn’t, as she’d really wanted to see this movie and see if Hollywood had actually gotten a demon possession right for once. Now she’d have to pay good money to see it again. Maybe she could get Dean to go with her. He was always nice to see a movie with, since he couldn’t seem to make up his mind at concessions and bought a little of whatever caught his eye. 

They were almost back to the car when Uzziel grabbed her, turned her, and kissed her. 

A part of Ellen’s mind thought he wasn’t too bad at it, either. His kiss could make a girl melt into a puddle of want and need. Still, he shouldn’t kiss her. In her opinion, angels shouldn’t do that. So when he leaned back, she let fly with a stinging slap that only served to hurt her hand and didn’t even turn his cheek the slightest.

Uzziel took her hand between his, the pain from the slap fading. “You struck me.” His brow furrowed in a frown that was curious and confused.

“You kissed me.”

“I’ve seen others kissing these past hours and you mentioned earlier that I was attractive. Do the two not go together? I was certain I had that part correct.” He released her hand. “My apologies, Ellen. I’m discovering I’ve had quite a few misconceptions on human behavior.”

“I don’t kiss men or angels I’ve just met.”

“Oh. So…later then?”

“Get in the car, Uzziel.”

As the hours passed, letting him hang around didn’t appear to be such a good idea after all. He was curious about everything, which unfortunately meant sex as well. His questions were interspersed between Garth’s calls (he seemed to think she was talking dirty to him now), Melissa’s panic attack because she’d mispronounced another word in Latin (while practicing it in her safe motel room), and several other hunters demanding to know when Bobby was due back because they refused to talk to a ‘chick’. She’d also ignored Uzziel’s suggestion that she strip naked so he could give himself a hands-on female anatomy lesson.

Ellen popped open a beer and suddenly had a clear picture in her mind of herself and Uzziel in a rather compromising position. She rubbed her temples. Between Bobby’s routine and Uzziel, she had a nice tension headache that wouldn’t quit. “Get out of my head and don’t even think about it, Uzziel, or I’ll kill you with that weapon of yours.”

“It’s the only way _to_ kill me,” he pointed out.

“I’ll still do it.”

He nodded. “Noted.”

“Don’t annoy me.”

“I believe I’m too late on that.”

“Just… be quiet and let me drink my beer.” She closed her eyes. The silence was wonderful.

“Ellen?”

“What?” She opened her eyes to find him standing in front of her, a stack of cloth in his arms.

“Where should I put the t-shirts? I brought enough for everyone to have one.”

Ellen started laughing and found it very difficult to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean and Jo were waiting when Sam and Gwen reached the appointed meeting place. They leaned side by side against the Impala’s hood, both with arms crossed and annoyed expressions, launching into an airing of grievances before Sam and Gwen were even fully out of the car.

“He had his nose so far in her cleavage, I’m surprised he could even breathe.”

Dean snorted. “Maybe you were to busy ogling the David Blaine wannabe on the sidewalk to notice I actually said hello and gave my order.”

Jo shook her head. “That’s not what happened. I was trying to figure out how he did that trick.”

“It’s all mirrors,” Dean snarled, “and you weren’t trying to figure out how he did it, you were ogling his ass.”

“Hah! And then after lunch, he took me into an adult store and do you know what he did? He filled a shopping cart. Filled.” Jo gestured with a hand high above her head. “It was like overflowing.”

“You’re exaggerating. I bought one item.” He pointed a finger at Sam and Gwen and waved it back and forth. “You guys want to see what I bought?”

Sam exchanged a glance with Gwen and they both answered with a firm ‘no’.

“After that, she dragged me into this frilly girly store --”

“They’re called boutiques, Dean.” Jo shifted position against the car.

“Same thing. Anyway, she tried on clothes for _fifteen_ hours.”

Jo scoffed. “It was not fifteen hours. Who’s exaggerating now? It was only like five minutes and I had to buy a shirt to replace the one you ripped off me last night.”

There was silence, Dean not replying to that and Sam tentatively asked, “You ripped her shirt off?”

“Yeah, that I did do, but, uh…tit for tat, right?” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“I…don’t…want to know,” Gwen said.

“Then we went swimming.” Jo took up the tale. “Every time I tried to go in the water, he threw a towel around me and carried me back to our chairs.”

“Her bikini was three tiny triangles and a lot of strings. Guys were looking. It could have come off completely if it had gotten wet and then she would have started a riot.”

She rolled her eyes. “It covers more than my underwear and everyone here has seen my laundry.”

“Yeah, well you wear tiny underwear.”

“Okay, honey, shall we discuss the Speedo you were wearing?”

“Swim trunks,” Dean insisted. “Plain, old regulation swim trunks.”

“If by plain you mean painted on. You were getting stares too.”

“And if all of that wasn’t enough, do you know what she did, Sam? She left lipstick on my baby’s seat. Lipstick.” Fishing a tube out of his pocket, he opened it to show the bright red shade. “Look at that.”

“Jo never wears red like that,” Gwen said, her body brushing Sam’s as she tied to keep her balance without putting pressure on her foot.

“What I said!” Jo flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It’s whore red! Maybe the floozy who left this,” she leaned in the car and back out, holding a lacy bright blue bra in one hand, dangling it like it was a dead mouse, “left behind her skank lipstick, too!”

“I’ve never seen that in my life,” Dean protested.

“Well,” she tossed the bra at him, “it’s not mine. My girls,” she raised the hem of her shirt and flashed all three of them a view of her breasts in a lacy pink bra, “aren’t that honkin’ big.”

“Jo, geez!” Sam quickly averted his gaze. “Put your shirt down!”

“Making a point,” she said in a prim tone, lowering the hem back in place.

“Two of them,” Gwen commented, laughing.

“When have I had time to even think about other women?” It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’ve been dealing with your premenstrual ass the past few days!”

“Jerk!”

“Oh, come on, Jo! You’ve been a bitch from the day we won that money. I’m wishing we’d never won it at all.”

“Like you’ve been something other than an insensitive ass? Socks in the sink. In the sink, Dean? Why the sink? Isn’t the floor good enough for dirty socks?”

“Hah! I’ve been perfectly normal. You’re the one who morphed into unsexy in less than a day after getting the ring on your finger.”

“I wouldn’t marry you, Dean Winchester, if you were the last man alive!” Jo stepped close to Dean, hands on her hips and head back to look up at him.

Dean’s scowl deepened and he pointed a finger at her chest. “Newsflash, cupcake,” he spat out. “We already _are_ married!”

Married? Huh. So Dean had actually taken action on that front. Sam decided he’d process that later and instead focused on the matter at hand. He leaned against the car hood.

“And who’s fault is that?” Jo’s brows rose.

“Yours.”

“Mine?” Incredulity colored the word. 

“Yes, yours. I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“How is it my fault, Mr. two-shots-of-this-won’t-kill-you? You’re the one who asked me and had it all planned out.”

“You used your feminine wiles to take advantage of my semi-drunken --”

“You mean horny.”

“-- state. That , too!” He blinked. “Shakin’ and shimmying.” He turned to Sam. “You should have seen her, Sam. I dare you to say no when she’s giving you a lap dance.”

“I never!” Jo’s screech held anger and indignity.

“Never my ass! You could be a professional!”

Sam cleared his throat. There was something very familiar about the way they were arguing that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Okay, we’ve covered some of what apparently happened, but was any of it especially…I don’t know…especially weird?”

“You mean aside from her suddenly deciding to be a nagging bitch from hell?”

“Or him becoming the most insensitive, inconsiderate bastard the world has ever seen?”

“Oh, come on.” Gwen shifted position. “You’re both exaggerating.”

Exaggerating…. A suspicion niggled at the back of Sam’s mind. It couldn’t be. They’d never met a real one. He’d even thought they didn’t really exist….

His suspicion grew as the argument continued until, with alarm, Sam realized just what was going on.

~~~~~~~~~~

This here was by far the most entertaining part of their trip. They may be irrational, but Dean and Jo’s bickering was amusing. Gwen almost wished she had popcorn and a soda.

She found it telling how neither, despite their bickering, expressed regret about getting married. It was interesting to her that Dean had had it planned, too. Married. Huh. She wondered what changes were in store for all of them when they got back to Bobby’s and Dean and Jo had time to think about things.

“I’ve learned my lesson about us,” Dean said. “This whole marriage thing isn’t going to be easy.”

“Oh, I know! You’re a bear to live with.”

“You’re not perfect either.”

“I’m a peach compared to you.”

“Hah!”

“Lesson?” Gwen glanced askance at Sam. The word ‘lesson’ had been bandied back and forth the past few minutes.

He glanced back. “They’ve both said that.”

The crow above on the power lines cawed over and over. It almost sounded like it was laughing.

Jo transferred her irritated glare up at it. “I’m going to shoot that damn bird.”

“Not if I beat you to it,” Dean replied, going to the trunk and opening it.

“Um, Sam?” The crow was far bigger than it should be for a normal bird. Gwen uncrossed her arms. Something about it and the situation struck a chord in her mind. She knew the information was there, but she couldn’t force it. She had to let it rise to the surface by itself. “Their arguing…. It’s like --”

“An old married couple?”

“Yeah. And that crow…. It’s like it’s laughing up there. Dean and Jo both did say a crow has been hanging around wherever they go.”

“Lessons learned. Lessons….” Sam repeated it over and over.

They stared at each other, Gwen furiously thinking, attempting to reason it out fast.

Jo and Dean stepped from behind the trunk, both holding guns and taking aim at the bird.

“Ladies first.”

Jo smiled, the first genuine smile since Sam and Gwen had arrived. “Oh honey, that’s so sweet and romantic. You _can_ be considerate.”

“I aim to please.” He winked at her. “Now aim and please shoot that bird.”

What being was associated with crows? She knew it, she did. In fact, she’d run across it not too long ago…. No, not it. Him. Gwen saw comprehension on Sam’s face as she herself put the clues together. “Wait!”

Sam stood. “Jo, don’t!”

It was too late. She fired and the bird dropped to the ground. The silence after it felt charged, expectant.

“What’s wrong with you two,” Dean asked, lowering his gun. “It’s a bird. An annoying bird, but a bird.”

“Don’t you see it?” Sam took a step towards the crow. “Think about everything that’s happened to you this week. Look at the symptoms.”

Jo stared at Sam like he was nuts. “Symptoms?”

Gwen turned her attention back to the crow, only it wasn’t a crow any longer. It was a man, with dark blond hair and a neatly clipped beard along his jaw. “You!” She pushed herself to stand, wavering for balance on one foot.

He clapped his hands. “Well done, Sam.” His gaze found Gwen, a slight smile tugging his lips. “Hel _lo_ , Gwen. Looking positively gorgeous as always, darling.”

Shock played on Dean and Sam’s faces, while Jo pointed. “ _That’s_ the man from the elevator,” she yelled.

“Gabriel?” Dean shook his head. His tone was hesitant, even hopeful.

The man spread his arms. “Alas, no, good hunter.”

Gwen cleared her throat. “Guys, that’s the Alpha Trickster. He’s been playing you for days.”

“Alpha _Trickster_ ,” Dean and Sam replied in unison, gaping at the being before them.

So unassuming, so average, so…deadly.

The Trickster grinned. “One and the same. Welcome to Vegas, ya’all.” 


	25. Chapter 25

While Gwen expected some nasty surprise to go along with his words, the Trickster apparently felt such a gesture unnecessary. Awfully magnanimous of him. What exactly was he up to? She thought about all she’d learned about him and decided he was definitely up to something.

“Wait, how do all of you know him,” Jo asked.

“I thought Tricksters were demigods, not Alphas.” Dean turned to Sam. “Demigods or no?”

“I’m like a demigod,” the Trickster said, “only better.”

“They’re a little more than demigods.” Gwen watched him carefully. “Very dangerous creatures with sizeable egos.”

“We meet you before or was it always Gabriel,” Dean demanded.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.” Raising the gun in his hands, Dean took aim.

“You can’t hurt me with that.”

“No, but I can have an awful lot of fun putting holes in you anyway.”

“Can’t have you doing that, Dean. I think you need to pay more attention to your wife.” With a clap of his hands, he’d put Dean and Jo at the back of the Impala, where they began to argue once more.

Sam watched them a moment, his lips tightening into a thin line. “Make them stop.”

“If you think I can just snap my fingers like Gabriel did….” The Trickster laughed. “You’re right, I could, but I won’t. That’s good entertainment, right there, let me tell you what.” It was uncanny how good an impression Gabriel had done of him. “The effect will fade an hour or so after I’m gone from this place, maybe sooner. They’ll go back to normal. Boring normal. I like them this way, full of fight and snark.”

“Why choose them,” Sam asked.

“Why not them? Gabriel had such a fascination with you Winchesters. Why not have a little fun? Besides, sometimes I cause discord in happy relationships to show the smug it’s not always roses, teach them a deserved lesson. Like those two.” He pointed at Jo and Dean. “Couple of smug kids thinking they’ve got it all figured out. You should have seen how smug they were, both thinking nothing would rain on their parade, giddy with excitement.” Now he leaned against the car. “But as you can hear, they’ve learned their lesson and started thinking about the hard things.”

Something about his tone didn’t seem right. He hadn’t just come across them, had he? Gwen had a hunch…. “Were you sent after them?” Gwen didn’t bother softening her tone. She knew well how showing any weakness to him could backfire.

He quirked a brow and slowly inclined his head. “Actually, I was. It wasn’t just dumb luck. I knew they’d be here. I did a favor to someone higher up than myself. Sometimes I will -- if asked nicely.” One hand gestured. “Like when Gabriel asked if I’d be willing to trick the gods, see if they could tell the difference between me and an imposter. Good joke, that.”

“Apparently only Kali could,” Sam replied in a dry tone.

“Gabe messed with her?” He whistled long and low. “She’s a nasty piece of work. Talk about complicated women.”

“Sometimes he lived on the edge. I should have known he’d choose the Alpha to contact instead of one of the descendants. Easier to mask his own level of power if he chose a being with a high level to begin with. How exactly did that happen?”

Gwen knew about Gabriel. He was one of the stories Sam had told her, though Sam hadn’t revealed that he’d masqueraded as a Trickster, only that they’d tangled with him a few times.

The Trickster studied him. “You want the story, Sam? Okay. Consider it a gift for figuring out I was even here. He looked like me, got it? Gabriel’s vessel was similar in looks to me and he did a bit of, shall we say, _reconstructive surgery_ to make the similarities far more striking. He went clean-shaven, which I hadn’t done in front of any of them and we spent awhile together so he could get my mannerisms down. That angel had quite the presence. I think he made a good me. It was a glorious trick, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. I must say, I think he and I were brothers under the skin. I liked his style.” He pointed at Sam, then at Dean. “And I like you two and your women. I especially like Gwen.”

“It’s not mutual,” Gwen replied.

“Would that it were….” His tone was wistful. “I was glad to move on from there. He gave me the chance to see the world without _them_ breathing down my neck. Now, while the vacation was nice, I’m headed back to work full-time. With him gone, I have to get back to the nitty-gritty lessons. This bit here was getting my toes back in the water, stretching my muscles.”

“I should kill you,” Sam told him. “We kill things like you.”

“I know you do. Quite the occupation and you’re very good at killing, aren’t you? But why kill me, Sam? All I did was play a harmless little trick on your brother and his lovely wife. They can easily recover…if they’ve got the heart for their hasty marriage.” His smile was wicked. “Do I hear happy hearts, Dean and Jo,” he called out.

The radio in both cars turned on, a song playing, interrupted by bursts of static.

“…I’m not half I’m whole now with your love...It’s my happy heart….” 

“If they don’t recover I’ll hunt you down --”

“And kill me, blah, blah, blah. That refrain is already getting old. How do you even plan on killing me? I haven’t killed anyone -- that you’re aware of in recent days. That puts a big old crimp in that plan.”

“If we find a victim or more than one, we _will_ come after you.”

“I look forward to being your Moriarty, Sherlock.” He took a step closer to Gwen, hand reaching out and almost touching her hair. “We could have been fantastic together, darling, what with my good looks and your unique _spark_. Rowr.” He rolled his r’s and shrugged a brow several times. “What we could have created together….” He sighed. “Alas, it’d never last.”

“You’re a murdering Trickster.” She leaned back, away from his hand, and he pulled it back.

“And a confirmed bachelor. I’d only leave you in a bad way, darling. Please, don’t beg me to stay. You’re embarrassing yourself.” His attention turned back to Sam. “Until we meet again.” Turning into a crow, he flew off.

“Unique spark,” Sam asked, arching a brow and returning back to stand beside her.

“I think it’s his way of trying to woo me. Made a big deal about it when we captured him -- his avatar, I guess. Pissed Samuel off how he went on and then when it wasn’t even the Trickster himself?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You didn’t show up for a couple days yet. He was the first Alpha we tried capturing. Slippery. Made Samuel look like a damn fool.”

“Wish I could have seen that.”

“It was kind of funny.” She replayed that scene in her mind and smiled. Samuel certainly hadn’t learned the lesson the Trickster had attempted to impart that series of days. He’d obviously been suggesting that Samuel’s course of action was a foolish one and had turned out to be completely correct on that count. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Over by the Impala, Dean and Jo both sputtered to a stop, going silent and staring at each other. They backed away from each other, both with a stricken expression. Jo turned away first and Sam sighed.

“Here’s hoping they’ll be fine in awhile after a good talk or two.” He pushed off from the car and walked around the Impala. Gwen couldn’t hear what he was saying to them, his voice was too low, but when he came back, he motioned for her to get in the car. “Dean wants to talk with Jo alone. They’ll meet us at the hotel. I told them we’ll wait in the lobby.”

“Is leaving them alone a good idea?”

“Maybe.” He opened the car door. “Won’t know until later.”

At a last glance in the mirror before they were out of sight, Jo and Dean were standing side by side, much like they had when Gwen and Sam had driven up.

~~~~~~~~~

It was like waking from a nightmare only to realize it had all been real. Jo sucked in a breath. She and Dean had been bickering for days and not the half-hearted joking bickering they usually did. They’d been doing full-on nit-picking that at times had slid into heated arguments.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the car, staring out at the desert road, half afraid to look at Dean and see the expression on his face.

“Bad few days, huh?”

Jo was shaking, more than half afraid the Trickster’s intervention had derailed their relationship completely. Not a good way to start a marriage. “Yeah. Very bad.” She recalled some of the things she’d said and bit her lip, tears threatening. Her stomach was upset, feeling like it was flip-flopping inside her.

Dean slid his hands in his jeans pockets. “About the whole being easy to live with thing…. You’re actually very easy to be around, Jo.”

“So are you.”

He laughed. “No, you had it right. I’m a bear. I don’t know how you or Sam put up with me. I’m the epitome of annoying.”

At least he was laughing. That should be a good sign, right? As for being easy to live with, Jo had found it easy to be with him. Well…when she wasn’t under the Trickster’s power. “I’m not easy to live with either, Dean. I’m opinionated, headstrong, and have a tendency to be sarcastic.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “That just makes you good fun.”

Looking up at him, she saw that he meant it. “You really think that, don’t you?”

“What’s a woman if she doesn’t have a little fire in her?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve got a whole blaze. Just ask my mother.”

“ _She’s_ got the blaze, Jo. You’re just…simmering and tempting.”

“And you’re the sweetest man I know.”

“I know a lot of people who’d argue with you on that.”

“So what do we do now?” Jo was afraid to ask that question and did anyway. She was one to face her fears and ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away. They had to deal with the past few days one way or another.

Stepping in front of her, he took her hand and began to slide the engagement ring off her finger.

Her lower lip quivered. No, she thought. Oh no…. The tears began to fall and Jo wiped at them with her other hand. This was it, wasn’t it?

But he didn’t take the ring all the way off like she thought he was going to, kneeling in front of her. “Joanna Beth Harvelle, will you do me the honor of marrying me again in front of our friends and family? No Tricksters invited.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t taking the ring back? “You still want to marry me?”

“We’re already married, Jo. I still _want_ to be married to you. What the Trickster did…. It wasn’t natural. Now, maybe we’ll be like that in twenty or thirty years if we live that long, but who knows, right? We’re not that way now. Might not be in our cards. Besides, I don’t buy into that whole predestined crap. What’s say we make our own destiny together?”

She smiled, still holding back tears, only they’d become happy tears. “Yes. I’ll marry you a second time.”

He returned the ring fully onto her finger and stood, moving close and cradling her hips in his hands. Dean’s lips parted and it looked like he was trying to gather courage to say something.

Jo slid her hands up his arms and shoulders and clasped her hands behind his neck.

“You’ve given me new life, Jo, helped bring me back from a bad place. I’m feeling again.” One hand raised, fingers sliding through her hair. “I’ve never said this out loud to you before, but…. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed her, a caress that was just as thrilling as their first real kiss had been.

~~~~~~~~~~

When angels had fled from heaven, Abigael had poked her head out of the library for the first time in centuries. She, like others, had been listening carefully to the news of what was happening outside, secretly thrilled whenever Castiel had a victory and crushed when he suffered a defeat.

She’d actually met him several times over the centuries, though it was obvious he’d made more of an impression on her than she’d made on him. He was the sort of angel she wanted to be: calm, cool, and confident enough in his own convictions to take on an archangel. An angelic hero, bravely forging a new heaven despite powerful opposition.

Never had she thought she’d work side by side with him and have the chance to study him close. The chance to do that…. It made her feel strangely giddy and prone to nervous giggles and blushes.

Ariel’s teasing that she had a crush on Castiel was wholly accurate, only not in the human definition of the word. Her crush was more that, in her opinion, he embodied all that the angels should be in this current time. The chance to learn directly from him was an awesome one and she’d jumped at that chance, leaving the utter safety of the library completely and signing up as one of the first angels interested in the AMP. Castiel had said that she was brave for doing that and leaving her comfort zone for an unknown path. She supposed she’d believe him, since he obviously knew a lot about bravery.

Ariel and Jael had made many jokes at her expense and likely still were. She suspected they’d gone to Uzziel and rigged the drawing in her favor.

She’d already had a vessel. It had been an order at one point from Raphael. He’d wanted members of each department ready for his summons to do work on earth and she’d been one of the ones chosen. What an ultimate relief never to have been called by him!

While it might have been nice to have Castiel’s guidance on wooing and caring for a vessel (it was rumored he’d once put a guard on his vessel’s family to keep them safe -- how was that for truly caring for his vessel?), she was just as glad to be able to jump right in to lessons. Castiel was a fount of information that she couldn’t learn in classes. Being here with him was a gateway to experiences she could only have on earth with humans. It was exciting and at the same time, frightening. She didn’t want to let him down.

They waited in the suite Dean and Jo had been staying in for the two to return with Sam and Gwen, dissipating any remaining parts of the Trickster’s magic. Castiel went onto the balcony and looked down. “He’s still here, but I believe he’s moved on from Jo and Dean. He’s found other targets for his pranks.”

She joined him. “Shouldn’t he be killed? He’s a threat to humans.”

“You could argue that we’re a threat. We have been as a whole. Does that mean all angels should be killed?”

“No, of course not.”

“If he murders, he should be dealt with in some way, but it appears as though he’s simply playing nasty tricks at present that aren’t necessarily fatal.”

She tried to focus as he was, to see what he was, and after a moment, succeeded. Her skills in new areas were growing. She was learning a different set of job skills now, different ones than she’d had for library work, doing her best to excel and understand how it all worked together. Castiel had soldier’s skills and a scholar’s leanings. Abigael only hoped she could someday reach his levels in both areas. “You’re right. He’s moved on.”

“I’m sure they’ll run across him again eventually.” He faced her. “When they arrive, I wish you to ask Gwen if she’d like you to heal her ankle. When she says yes, I’ll supervise the task.”

“Why me?”

“You should begin bonding with them and I think Gwen is a good one to begin with. She was the first one to meet you, whether she remembers it or not.”

“Will she say yes?”

“It’s likely she will once you explain what’s in store for her later if it heals naturally. Sam may object, but ultimately, it’s her decision.”

When they all arrived and the introductions were over, Dean put an arm around Jo, probably to diffuse any lingering tension from him recognizing Risa. Abigael did understand that much. His hand swept up and down Jo’s hip. “So Risa’s a vessel then? That explains Zachariah using her in that future I guess. How long has she been your vessel?”

Abigael looked at Castiel. At his tiny nod, imperceptible to the human eye, she answered the question. “Since about the middle of the war. Raphael ordered certain members of each department to take vessels and be ready for his call. I was lucky he had no use for my section of the library after all. I’m not a soldier, I’m a scholar. Human history. Cataloguing the events that have occurred.”

“You’re a librarian?” Sam asked with an arched brow. He and Dean exchanged a glance. Both of their faces reflected high amusement.

“I am.” She blinked. Dean’s thoughts were…strange and she frowned, confused. “Who is Marian and why should that be my name?”

Beside her, Castiel cleared his throat. “It’s impolite to listen to their thoughts, Abigael. They become agitated and excessively angry if you do that without permission, yet are never inclined to actually give permission.”

“My apologies, but who is Marian?”

“A librarian in a musical,” Jo answered. “Marian the librarian.”

“Oh.” She still didn’t understand the answer, but assumed she could ask Castiel later for details. Abigael turned to Gwen, who was now reclining on the bed with her ankle propped up. “Do you wish me to heal your ankle? I would be pleased to do that for you so that you’re fully mobile again.”

Gwen’s lips parted. “Oh. Um….” She looked startled by Abigael’s attention, but Abigael took Castiel’s words to heart and didn’t attempt to hear her thoughts. “I don’t --”

“If allowed to heal naturally, you’ll eventually suffer arthritis in the ankle, but with my intervention, you’ll not have that effect. Your choice.”

“When you put it like that….” She gestured at her ankle. “Go ahead. Be my guest.”

“Gwen.” Sam sat beside her. “Are you sure? We’re trying to get away from angelic healing all the time.”

“Let me think.” She rolled her gaze up to the ceiling. “Probably months of recovery time versus a minute of angelic power and I’m back on my feet again?” Gwen returned her attention to Sam. “I think I’ll take the healing this once. Don’t worry. I won’t make a habit of it.”

Abigael bent over Gwen’s ankle, cracking the cast with a touch and removing it carefully. She dulled any pain Gwen would feel from that, then healed the ankle of all injury under Castiel’s watchful gaze. She tried not to flush beneath Dean, Sam, and Jo’s scrutiny when Castiel’s hand covered hers. The process took seconds at most, though to Abigael, it felt much longer. She stood back up, aware that she’d flushed while trying not to.

“Alright, Jagger,” Dean said, releasing Jo and moving to the bed where he poked a finger at Gwen’s ankle and looked it over to a chorus of Gwen’s protests. “What are you doing here?”

Castiel stepped away from the bed. “We came to observe you. Abigael won a drawing to have personal instruction from me in regards to how to relate to humans.”

“So that’s how that happened,” Jo commented, dropping into one chair.

Gwen got off the bed and tested her ankle, putting her weight on it. “Feels fine. Thank you, Abby.”

“It’s Abigael,” she corrected, though it didn’t appear Gwen had heard her, as she didn’t indicate she had. She’d noticed humans had a tendency to shorten proper names. She’d have to ask Castiel about that later. Was it all humans or only these particular ones?

Dean crossed his arms. “No offense, Cas, but are you really the right one for that job?”

Why was Dean asking that question, Abigael wondered. Of course he was the right one. He’d fallen, learned to live as a human, and regained his angelic identity. He had plenty of knowledge to impart to his fellow angels. Abigael listened for Castiel’s answer while trying not to appear like she was listening.

“I told Uzziel to stop the drawing and he didn’t. I’m committed and,” his voice lowered though he would know she could still hear him, “the task hasn’t been the chore I’d thought it’d be. Abigael learns quickly and shows a genuine interest in humanity. We’re working our way through a series of lessons I believe will give her the skills she needs to work on her own.”

She smiled a little at the idea that he thought her a quick learner. It pleased her and she turned her attention to Jo, Gwen, and Sam, studying them.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was good to meet another angel that was nice. To many of the ones they’d met had been dicks, but Sam thought he could easily like Abby. It was also good to see Castiel at work. He was a good teacher, pointing things out to Abby in a soft voice and correcting her without sounding harsh or angry. After awhile, Cas asked Jo to show Abby the casino and explain about it. Dean went with them, claiming he wanted to see if their winning streak was over.

Castiel turned from the door. “You had something you wished to discuss with me without Dean, Jo, and Abigael around to hear?”

“How did you --”

“Your thoughts are quite loud on your desire for information. Ask.”

“What information?” Gwen stepped inside from the balcony.

“Why is Samuel trying to find Gwen? We’ve been going through the files Arlene brought without much in the way of information and I thought it’d be quicker to ask you if you knew anything.”

“Are you hiding it from Dean?”

“No. I just think he should have Jo on his mind for awhile since technically they’re on their honeymoon right now. We’ll tell him and Jo both all of it later.”

“Then I concur with the decision to withhold the information at present.” Castiel’s gaze slid to Gwen and back to Sam. “He’s trying to locate her because Gwen is special.”

Alarm slid through Sam and he shook his head. “No. Not that label, Cas. Special has never turned out good for any of us.” He’d come to hate that word and knew Dean did as well.

“That doesn’t negate it as truth.”

“How am I special?” Gwen’s voice held more than a little curiosity.

“I can’t answer that.”

“You won’t answer or you don’t know the answer?”

“Is she a vessel,” Sam stepped closer, unable to keep the urgency from his tone.

“No. Gwen is special in other ways.” 

Sam looked at Gwen, studied her a moment, recalling how much she didn’t look like her parents. Since Castiel wouldn’t answer that first question, at least not in front of Gwen, he moved on to the next one. “Is she a Campbell in any way at all?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Gwen’s surprise at the question. Surely the idea had occurred to her too after some of the inconsistencies they’d discovered in the papers?

There was a flare of calculation in Cas’s eyes, as though he was weighing how much to tell them. “No, Sam. She’s not a Campbell. Never was. In no way is she related to you or Dean, by blood or marriage. You’ve no common ancestors.”

Gwen came forward, hand stretching out to brush Castiel’s sleeve. “Wait…. I was adopted?”

Castiel shook his head and transferred his attention to Gwen. “No. There was nothing official.”

While Sam could easily sense Castiel beginning to pull back from the conversation, he rushed forward with his next question, hoping for some clue to push on in their investigation of who Gwen was. “Is she another hunter’s daughter, raised by them after her parents died?”

He looked away. “Don’t pursue this avenue. Gwen, you were raised a Campbell from nearly birth. _That_ is who you are. Patricia and Neal claimed you as theirs.”

Gwen slid her hands into her pockets. “But if I’m not a Campbell…. I want to know my biological family.”

“Why?” It was a demand that she explain herself. “Why is it important to you? Up until this moment you were content with your memory of who you are. That couple you were born to meant nothing to you, yet now you wish to know them?”

“Because they’re my real family --”

He sighed. “The people who raised you, loved you, and cared for you are your family. Those who now love you and care about you are family. You have a family right here that would die to save you. But the others….” Cas shrugged. “Leave it alone.”

“When have you known any of us to follow that advice,” Sam snapped.

Sadness flickered in Castiel’s eyes. “I’m quite aware of your frustrating propensity for doing the ill-advised action. You’ll do as you wish regardless of whatever I say, but I strongly encourage you to forget all of it. Gwen, you’re a Campbell by raising. Where you came from doesn’t matter nearly as much as who you choose to be today.”

“Cas, what’s in my family past that’s worrying you so much if I find out about it?”

“Don’t unlock that door and open it, Gwen. You won’t like what you find.”

He was gone in a flutter of wings.

“So, are we still digging,” Sam asked.

“Oh, hell yes,” Gwen replied with a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away now.”

If Cas had meant to discourage them, he’d gone about it the wrong way, Sam reflected. They were going to get to the bottom of this mystery, even if it meant hunting Samuel down and forcing him to tell what he knew.

A few hours later, after a big dinner where they all toasted to Dean and Jo’s health and happiness together, Dean pulled Sam aside and handed him two room cards and a credit card.

“Here.”

Sam took them, looked at them. “What’s this for?”

“I think Jo and I’ve had enough bright lights, big city. We’re going to take off, find a cabin in the middle of nowhere for a few days, and get back in tune with each other before it’s time to head back to Bobby’s. After the whammy the Trickster did on us, we need to sort a few things out alone.”

“Why give them to me?”

“I thought you and Gwen could take the room. Someone should enjoy the fancy digs for another couple days. Besides, since Gwen’s all healed now, you can really hit the shows, see what kind of trouble you can get into.”

“Dean….” Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Which part? The shows or the trouble?”

“The taking the room with Gwen part.”

“Why not?” He was puzzled, glancing back over Sam’s shoulder where Jo and Gwen were waiting. “Not like you never shared a room before.”

He hadn’t wanted to distract Dean now, but in light of Castiel’s confirmation of his suspicions, he’d feel weird about being in a honeymoon suite with Gwen. “Well…because…Gwen’s not really our cousin.”

Dean blinked twice. “Repeat that?”

“We’ve been looking at the archives and we’ve come across a few things that suggested she was adopted.”

“What are you talking about?” As he’d predicted to himself, interest sparked in Dean’s eyes. “When did you start going through the archives?”

“A few days ago. I asked Cas. Gwen isn’t a Campbell. Never was. Neal and Patricia weren’t her biological parents. They sort of adopted her unofficially. I guess they created the papers they needed.”

“So…what? You don’t want to share a room with her because why? You’ve had a hard-on for a woman you thought was your cousin? That’s dueling banjos, dude.”

He should have known Dean would come to that conclusion. “No, it just…. Well, it changes things. Complicates them. Before, I thought we were family and it turns out we’re not.”

Dean raised a hand, stroking his chin with thumb and forefinger. “No blood relation?”

“None.”

“Mmm. You’re right, that does change things.”

“I know, right?”

“Changes, just,” he gestured, “doesn’t really complicate them. Not unless you think you could be attracted to her and that scares the hell out of you.” His amusement faded slightly. “Good God, Sam, that’s it, isn’t it? It’s not that you’ve _had_ a hard-on for her, it’s that you’re afraid you will _now_.” He started laughing and Sam would swear it held a relieved note to it. “Oh, man….”

“It’s not funny, Dean.”

“Yeah, it is. A little.” He clapped a hand on Sam’s back. “Sorry, Sam. I have absolutely no words of advice for this situation except to enjoy the rest of your week and maybe…take her swimming.”

“That won’t help.”

“It might. See if anything comes up.”

Sam looked away with a put upon sigh. “You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I am. Seriously, Sammy, don’t sweat it. You’ve spent this long in her company, I think you’ll be fine.”

Maybe. But how did he explain that Gwen had suddenly become far from safe? He’d let himself enjoy her company primarily because she was a relation, now to discover she wasn’t at all? It put her in the available category and Dean was right. That scared the hell out of Sam. It was easy to have one-night stands because he didn’t care about them. The women were fairly anonymous. However, he cared about Gwen and maybe he should hedge his bets and have another chat with Castiel, this time a private one -- just in case.

Castiel arrived as soon as Dean and Jo were gone and Gwen had gone down to the casino for awhile. He leaned against the dresser, hands gripping the edge. “You’re becoming as insistent as Dean on immediate meetings, Sam.” His tone suggested he didn’t appreciate it, either. “What now?”

“Can you tell me how Gwen is special? Is she….” Sam shrugged. “You know. Capable of having vessels? I know you angels use the word special for that sometimes.”

Castiel stared at him. “Your obsession with the probabilities of vessel creation borders on insane, Sam.”

“I need to know. You said she was special. Is _that_ how she’s special and you didn’t want her to know?”

“Gwen is a unique woman with many outstanding attributes, like Jo. Both are special. Do you demand the same information on Jo?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s Dean’s wife, Cas. It’s up to Dean to ask that question if he hasn’t already. I’d hardly sleep with Jo.”

“You’re planning on _sleeping_ with Gwen now?” His brows rose with the question.

“Just answer the question.”

Castiel shifted position slightly. To Sam, it felt like Cas’s stare was searing through him. “Vessel creation is a delicate process. Each vessel is the product of a careful integration of certain assets within bloodlines resulting in prime conditions within the human body to house angels. The archangel lines are even more delicate because the vessels must be able to withstand the raw power of the archangels. The chances of Gwen being that sort of special meant to carry on a line -- an archangel line at that -- are one in billions. Does that ease your mind?”

He breathed a slow sigh of relief. “It does. I just…. I needed to know, Cas. For my own peace of mind in case….” He shrugged again. “I like her. If something happens and our relationship changes…. I’m not saying it will, but it could and I don’t want to have to worry about Lucifer’s line. I can’t risk the line continuing. You understand, right?”

“Gwen is a fine woman, Sam, whatever occurs between you…or doesn’t occur.”

Castiel was gone then and Sam felt a bit of tension ease from his shoulders. He was free to enjoy himself for the rest of the week now, getting back to enjoying her company as he had been. It was a relief to discover her speculation awhile back about vessels had been true. At least if something happened with her, he wouldn’t have to worry about Lucifer’s line. It was the other things he’d have to worry about, the normal every day things.

Really, he was only being realistic. He and Gwen worked together, spent a lot of time together. Realistically, with them not being family, an attraction could develop. If it did, he could relax about it line-wise.

Sam smiled a little to himself and decided to join Gwen in the casino.

~~~~~~~~~~

Abigael was still waiting in one of heaven’s hallways where he’d left her upon Sam’s summons, her arms crossed. “You lied to him,” she accused. “You let him believe she --”

Her accusation was correct and he interrupted her before she could go on. “I gave him the odds without exposing a piece of truth. It wasn’t a lie exactly, more an omission. Sam took the information as he chose to, as he longed to. Abigael, there are things they can’t know, things we can’t divulge even if we must lie to them. The archangel lines is one of those topics. We’re to protect the lines even if the angels aren’t around to use the vessels produced.”

“It’s wrong to lie.”

“It is usually, but we’re still under God’s direction. Protecting the archangel lines at all cost was mandated along with the archangels protecting the prophets. Those two orders did come directly from Him. That was one of the things Uzziel and I confirmed through Joshua’s connection.”

“Confusing.”

“Yes. Now, I’m giving you a couple days to think abut what we’ve covered so far. I’ve a few matters to attend to. We’ll return to earth together by the end of the week.”

She nodded and turned, walking slowly down the hallway. Castiel waited until she was gone before leaving heaven and returning to earth. He wanted to spend some time with Ellen and see how she was progressing in that bet she’d made with Bobby. Since everyone else was taking time off, why shouldn’t he take a few hours as well?


	26. Chapter 26

As soon as he was in the car, Dean cleared his throat and looked at Jo. “So, get this…. It turns out Gwen’s not a Campbell and Sam’s afraid he’s going to jump her while she’s sleeping.”

“What do you mean she’s not a Campbell?” Jo fastened her seatbelt.

“Sam asked Cas. He told them she’s not related to us at all.”

“She didn’t know?”

“Guess not. Wonder why they didn’t tell her?” He started the car, frowning. That was bugging him. He couldn’t get a handle on what reason the Campbell’s could possibly have had not to tell her she was adopted. Why would it be a big enough deal to hide it? What had they known about her family that made it necessary to hide her true parentage?

“Who knows. From everything I’ve heard, that side of your family is stranger than the usual hunting family.”

“They are strange,” he agreed, “but they have reasons for doing things and doing them the way they do.” Dean pulled out of the parking space and drove towards the exit.

“If you say so.” She reached down into the sack on the floor and pulled out a magazine. “Why is Sam afraid he’ll jump her? He’s never been before.”

“I think he likes her.”

“So liking someone automatically transforms into sexual attraction when you discover you’re not, in fact, related?”

“He has been particularly monkish lately.” He paid the parking fee and pulled out into traffic. “I don’t know. Likely he’s panicking over nothing, but can you imagine that?” A short laugh left him. “Sam and Gwen?”

Jo flipped a page in the magazine before answering, “Actually…I could -- once I get over the whole no relation revelation. I think she’s good for him. I mean, they obviously connected somehow back when he was soulless, or she connected with him, and now….” Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “They work well together. She’s not afraid to challenge him, so yes, Dean, I can see it.”

He mulled that over. She was right. Gwen had always shown a complete lack of fear of Sam even during the soulless period and she did challenge him, not afraid to argue with him over a point. She teased him and, from what Dean had seen, had been able to draw Sam out in conversation on some matters. “Yeah, me too.”

It was something of a relief to realize that Sam was already struggling with deeper feelings for Gwen, as though Cas telling them the truth had released feelings Sam hadn’t known were possible. Maybe Sam would give up the notion that he couldn’t have that life Dean had found. If Dean could do it, so could Sam. He’d tried to talk to Sam about it, explain that they both had the same things at stake, such as the vessel thing and the whole fear of losing people they loved issue. There were more similarities, but it all boiled down to the fact that Dean doing it meant Sam could -- if he let himself.

That would be the key. Sam was going to have to let himself choose to pursue that and Dean wasn’t sure Sam was ready for that yet.

If he did go for Gwen, it’d certainly be a ton of strange for awhile.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen stepped out of the bathroom in her pajamas. For the first time since she’d stayed in a room at night with Sam, she was wearing her bra beneath the pajama top. Castiel’s revelation that she wasn’t Sam and Dean’s cousin after all made her a little uncomfortable to be alone in a hotel room with Sam. She was seeing him in a new light, not as a man she was related to, but as one she could be attracted to. If she let herself, she could easily like him in a far more personal way because Sam Winchester had many of the attributes she liked in a man. He was smart and beneath the competent tough exterior was a gentle, genuinely kind man. He could kick monster ass and turn around and be understanding and empathetic to the victims. Very appealing.

He was sitting on the bed, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, flipping channels on the tv.

She moved to the bed, determined to act as though nothing had changed. There wasn’t going to be even a hint that she’d already begun to feel the pull of attraction that Castiel’s words had given her license to feel. It was okay to notice Sam and that made her heart beat fast in her chest. She tucked a stray strand of hair back in her braid and turned down the covers on her side of the bed. “You’re not going to be all weird about the whole not really related thing, are you?”

What Gwen really meant was ‘are you as weirded out as I am and trying to ignore it?’ There was a quick glimmer of unease in his eyes, masked in a second, but enough of a nonverbal ‘yes’ that she felt better about her own discomfort.

“No,” he scoffed, making a face at her and turning the volume on the tv down. “Nothing to be weird about, right?”

“Right. We’re still the same two people we were yesterday and the past months.”

“Definitely.”

She got into bed and pulled the covers up. I’m fearless, she thought. I’ve fought demons, captured Alpha creatures. I can sleep beside Sam without freaking out because we’re not really related. I can totally do this. “I’m gonna turn in.”

“I think I’ll stay up, watch some tv. I’ll keep the volume low.”

“Sure.” She settled down and closed her eyes. Sam obligingly turned off the light, leaving the tv screen as the only light.

It was a long night. She fancied she could hear the seconds ticking by like a drumbeat. Gwen couldn’t drift off, her mind working a million miles a minute until, as Sam laid down on top of the covers beside her in the dark, she asked, “How did you know we weren’t related?”

“I didn’t,” was his prompt reply.

Reaching out, she turned on the light and sat up. He was on his side facing her, one arm beneath the pillow, hand grasping the pillow at the top of it. His other hand was on the bedspread, fingers splayed. “Yes, you did. You knew. When you asked Castiel, it wasn’t a mere guess, Sam. You only wanted confirmation of a fact. You’d already figured it out. How? What do you know that I don’t?”

He rolled onto his back, bringing the arm from beneath the pillow to bend it under his head. His gaze skimmed over her and trained upon the ceiling. “Do we have to do this now, Gwen? I’m tired. Can we do this in the morning over breakfast on the balcony?”

“No, we can’t do it in the morning. You had a reason you’d come to that conclusion and I won’t sleep until I know what it was. How did you know?”

Closing his eyes, he sighed. “I found a picture of your mom and a diary she wrote.”

“You didn’t show them to me? Sam? Why not?”

“I wanted to be sure they were genuine and that the facts within were explainable some other way than you being adopted by them. I guess,” he opened his eyes and looked at her, “it’s the right explanation after all.”

“You should have told me.”

He sat up in a smooth, quick movement. “I was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me. I’m capable of protecting myself, as I’ve amply demonstrated the months since you’ve known me. What _is_ it with the men in this family and their overprotective urges?” She thought of Samuel and his efforts to keep her safe. Christian, Mark…. They’d all done it. Campbell men had a thing about protecting Campbell women even if those women were quite competent and as well-trained as they were. Sam and Dean were part of the family through their mother, so they counted in that sweeping generalization.

His jaw tightened, a muscle there ticking. “It’s genetic,” he bit out.

“Must be,” she retorted.

“I was going to show both to you once I’d gone through the diary.”

“You have them with you?” She shoved the covers off and moved onto her knees, ready to scramble for his bag at his affirmative. She was antsy now, wanting to see her mother’s handwriting, read whatever words she’d written on the pages, and see the picture. It had been years now since Gwen had seen a picture of her. When Patricia had died, her father had put all of the pictures away, mourning her until his own death.

“No.” Sam bent a knee and rested one arm on it. “I left them at Bobby’s. I wasn’t anticipating time to look through the diary on this trip.”

Gwen stared at him. He was lying. It wasn’t that she could see it on his face or hear it in his voice. She simply knew that Sam was lying about the diary being at Bobby’s. He had it with him. She knew he did. “I don’t believe you.”

“You have no reason not to.”

“Sam, you may be a professional liar, but so am I. I know you’re lying to me.” She began to move to the end of the bed.

One hand lashed out and caught her upper arm. “In the morning. Just wait until morning. We’re both tired --”

“Let go.” She tugged without managing to pull her arm free. His grip was firm. With a burst of annoyance, Gwen tugged harder, her free hand reaching to pry at his fingers only to be caught by his other hand.

“Tomorrow, Gwen, please.”

“Get your hands off me, Sam!” She began struggling in earnest, as determined to reach that diary as he was to keep her from it. It was frustrating that he didn’t appear to be expending much effort.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he told her in a calm voice that only served to annoy her further.

An aggravated growl left her.

“Stop struggling.”

“Make me!”

He lifted her and, for a panicked moment, Gwen was weightless. In a second, the mattress was at her back and Sam was straddling her, hands clasping her forearms, that grip still firm and unyielding, yet gentle at the same time. “There. Made you.” He leaned down close. “Why do you want to do this tonight?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I saw my mother?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I saw mine? You had yours with you for fifteen years before she died.”

“Let me see the diary and picture.”

“You want to be well-rested to look at that. It’s going to dredge up a lot of memories and you can’t be bone weary for that because it’ll take a lot out of you. Will you trust me?”

“I do trust you, but I want to see it _now_.” She tried bucking, which was an absurd thing to do since he outweighed her by more than a few pounds of solid muscle.

“Gwen, stop!”

She shook her head. “I’ll scream bloody murder if you don’t let me go.”

“Gwen --”

“I will. I swear I will.”

“Will you just --”

She opened her mouth to let a scream loose and had a brief second to register intent in his eyes before her resolve to behave as though nothing had changed melted away beneath the pressure of his lips on hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but an aggressive one, demanding she respond. She saw the tactic for what it was. He kissed her to shut her up and distract her, a dirty tactic.

What would he have done if they were related, she wondered. Certainly not this.

Heat flared to life in her belly, surging through her limbs, warming her. She kissed him back, relaxing, letting herself be distracted, and knew there’d be awkwardness later so she might as well enjoy the kiss while she could.

He drew back slightly, confusion in his eyes, his grip on her slackening. “That felt….”

“Weird,” she answered, feeling breathless and shaky in a good way.

“Very. But I kind of….” His gaze dipped to her mouth, his tongue doing a slow sweep of his lower lip.

“Me, too.” She swallowed hard, really wanting him to kiss her again. Or maybe she’d kiss him.

Sam released her arms and sat up. “I shouldn’t have done that.” A pensive frown settled upon his brow.

But he had. Oh, how he had in a most delicious fashion!

He moved from her, crawling off the bed and standing. “I, uh, I think --”

“In the morning. We’ll look at the diary in the morning.”

“You think I kissed you to get you to agree to that?” He rested his hands on his hips.

“No. I think you kissed me to stop me from screaming.”

“You’d be right then.” He motioned to the balcony. “I’m going to go outside awhile.”

Wanting Sam wasn’t a good idea. Gwen knew that. After all, they’d had a good relationship going and to pursue a personal, intimate relationship would change things all the way around. She watched him standing on the balcony for nearly half an hour before she realized that Sam wasn’t coming back in until he was sure she was asleep.

Lying down, she closed her eyes, certain she wouldn’t sleep a wink, but sleep dragged her under before she even realized it had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t planned on kissing her, really he hadn’t. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since Castiel had confirmed his suspicions. They were still in that weird phase of trying to figure out just how to behave with each other in light of that information…and he’d gone and kissed her. Where did they stand now?

Right then, with her staring up at him, defiant, angry, and such a strong woman, he’d wanted very badly to kiss her and take some of her fire into himself. She’d been unresponsive at first, perhaps a bit shocked, but her lips had quickly warmed and parted, inviting a deeper caress that he’d been happy to give. It had felt good to kiss a woman who didn’t want to use him in some way. She didn’t want money or a favor or anything at all. Her return kiss had been because she’d wanted to kiss him.

It had been an achingly long time since that had happened.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and stared out at the early morning traffic.

He didn’t want to want Gwen. It wasn’t a good idea to go even more personal with her, even after Castiel’s assurance that she wasn’t special in ‘that way’. What he needed to do was to put her back in his mind as untouchable, yet was it possible at all to close Pandora’s Box once it was open?

His mind kept replaying that kiss over and over as he stood there. Her body pliant beneath him, her response whole-hearted, with nothing held back.

I bet she’d be like that in bed, he thought, unrestrained and passionate….

Sam groaned and leaned over, laying his arms on the railing and resting his chin on them. Dean was right. He was afraid to want her, afraid their perfectly comfortable relationship would change and become uncomfortable. He didn’t want that to happen. The same sort of thoughts ran through his mind and, as the sky lightened with dawn, Sam went back into the room and laid down on the bed beside Gwen.

Closing his eyes, he slept.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby’s house was quiet and calm. There were no phones ringing, the television wasn’t on, and the only sounds were the hum of the electronics, Ellen’s snores, and pages turning.

“Castiel.” Uzziel’s voice was low. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously.” He stepped into the living room. Ellen was sprawled on the couch, a blanket over her and Uzziel was sitting at the desk, a book open in front of him. Castiel leaned over Ellen, placing a hand on her shoulder and checking to make sure she was well. “You’ve healed her shoulder.”

“It was bothering her. The constant low pain was making her grouchy.”

He went to the desk, studying Uzziel, trying to get a feel for his present mood. “What are you doing here?”

Uzziel turned a page. “I was curious. Having interacted with Ellen previously, I thought….” With a sigh, he slammed the book closed. “How do you do it, Castiel?”

“How do I do what?”

He looked up at Cas. “Them? How do you spend so much time with them and not lose yourself? You have some of their mannerisms, their way of speaking. You’re like them and not at the same time. How do you do it? How do you not fall again to experience their vices and pleasures?

Castiel peered at him a bit closer. There was a struggle on Uzziel’s face, minute changes of expression. “I’m an angel, they’re human. We’re fundamentally different. I did fall once, Uzziel.”

“Not because you wanted to experience their way of life.”

That was what was happening here, he saw. Uzziel was being tempted to slip from heaven for good. Out of all his strengths and the possible weaknesses he could have, Castiel had not thought this to be Uzziel’s weakness. “You’re tempted.”

Uzziel’s attention turned to Ellen, another ripple of struggle appearing. “I simply don’t understand how you manage, Castiel.”

He moved around the desk to stand beside Uzziel, blocking his view of Ellen. “Was coming here your idea?”

“Yes and no.”

“Explain.”

“I decided to come down to earth and observe like you said I should and Balthazar suggested I see Ellen since I’d interacted with her once before.”

For awhile now, Castiel had had mixed thoughts on Balthazar’s return to the heavenly ranks, but this made him wonder what Balthazar’s game was now. He’d likely seen Uzziel’s weakness, because that was Balthazar’s particular strength, and used it against Uzziel. But why? Why cause discord? Why send Uzziel down here where he might fall before anyone could stop him? That would leave Castiel alone in the top ranks, needing to remain mostly in heaven to take care of matters. What was Balthazar’s motive?

“Return to heaven, Uzziel. Immediately.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Uzziel needed to be removed from the area of temptation with haste.

“I’m in extreme danger, aren’t I?” He knew he was close to falling, could see it.

“Go.”

He was gone then, and Castiel took his place at the desk.

Curious, he looked at the book Uzziel had been studying with such concentration. It was an old atlas. He stayed to speak to Ellen, waiting with patience until she began to stir.

She stretched and yawned, opening her eyes. “Cas? That you?”

“Yes.” He moved to crouch down beside the couch close to her eye level.

“Where’s Uzziel?”

“He’s returned to heaven.”

“Shame. I was going to teach him to Tango.”

“Is it wise to confuse him any more than he already is on angel-human relations?”

“He’s sweet. Not sweet like you are, but sweet.” She rolled onto her side.

“I’m sweet?” That Ellen would call him sweet surprised him.

“Course you are. You’re adorable, gawky sweet. Uzziel is more…. He’s exuberant.”

“Yes, he is rather enthusiastic.”

She snorted. “And he talks. Lordy, how he talks! Why didn’t you tell me that in angel build you’re a linebacker?”

“Size doesn’t matter, Ellen.”

Her lips curved, amusement in her eyes. “The one man in the world who thinks that _would_ have to be an angel.”

“Besides, it never came up.”

A bark of laughter left her as she sat up. “That’s something you two are consistent on. You say things that feed my trash mind. He coming back?”

“Likely not. But if he does, would you do me a favor, Ellen?” When she nodded, he went on. “Remind him he’s an angel and tell him, in your most authoritative way, to return to heaven?”

She frowned. “Cas? What’s going on?”

Castiel shook his head. “Nothing you should worry about. An internal matter I need to clear up. I was going to stay awhile, but I think I should take care of that matter instead.”

“Okay. Don’t be a stranger. Come back if you’ve time.”

He followed Uzziel back to heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was sitting on the end of the bed when Gwen woke, dressed and holding something in his hands.

She yawned and sat up, rubbing a hand over her eyes. Had he gotten any sleep at all? She pushed her hair back from her face. Her braid had come undone as she’d slept.

“I shouldn’t have done that last night,” he said in a low voice that was nearly a whisper. “I acted because I could. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever done that to a woman before.”

Gwen was about a second from quipping, ‘Done what? Kissed her?’, when he continued.

“I shut you down on the diary because I didn’t want to deal with it. I was tired and I knew it’d take an effort to start through it. That was wrong. I should have just sucked up my fatigue and handed it over. It’s a part of your life and if our roles had been reversed….” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a quick meeting of his gaze to hers. “I’d have been pissed. I never shut Jess down like that and I don’t recall doing it to any other women either. And then I kissed you and I admit, I did it to shut you up. You were right. If Cas hadn’t said you were adopted, I probably would have covered your mouth with my hand.”

“I’d have bitten you if you had.”

“I know. We would have gotten into it even more. I kissed you because I could.” He turned the item in his hands over. “I was wrong to do both those things, Gwen. Forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. In case you didn’t notice at the time, I liked that kiss, Sam. It felt a little weird, of course, but I did like it. I wasn’t just saying I did.”

He nodded once and held out the item. It was a book, with a picture sticking out from between the pages. “Here. It’s yours. I’ll try not to protect you from anything else we find in those boxes.”

Gwen took the book, fingers brushing his. “Thank you.”

“Might not succeed, but I’ll try.”

The picture sent a wave of nostalgia crashing through her, a hundred different memories flitting through her mind. Her mother picking her up and pointing at the targets set up in a pasture, her calm voice explaining that they were having target practice and when Gwen was older, she’d be out there with them. Her mother whipping up a feast of food and cussing the air blue when the Campbell clan started in without saying grace first. Her mother insisting Gwen learn how to dress girly instead of running around in hand downs from all the boys, yet also insisting that Gwen learn how to protect herself with weapons and words. And then her mother…dying of cancer and wasting away in a hospital bed.

She ran a finger over the image.

Was Castiel right? Did she need to pursue her birth parents? Or should she be thankful for the loving parents she’d had?

“It’s a pretty clear clue, isn’t it? I see why you were certain before you asked. If she’d been pregnant with me, she would have been big as a house in this picture.”

Gwen flipped through the pages of the diary. Patricia Campbell’s handwriting was neat and tiny and there were many entries per page, most abbreviated in the sort of code she recalled her father using as well. Initials for names. The last two numbers on years unless it was about a previous century. They’d wanted their diaries to be accessible to family and incomprehensible to outsiders. This though, wasn’t as cryptic as the hunter diaries. It was as close to a personal diary as her mother would have had time to write.

She wondered what had happened to her father’s hunting journal and turned to the week she’d been born. There was no mention of a new baby. Nor in the next week or the next. In the fourth week, the first week of July, 1981, she found a series of entries that made her pause in her flipping.

_‘Michigan. Coven? A. worried. M &G missing for days. N. on trail. Suspicious. Must be prepared.’_

_‘Hex bags at A.’s. Nasty ones. Powerful witch. Poss. con. to 77?’_

_‘A. dead. No time to mourn. M. still missing. No trace. N. taking G. to safety. Packing.’_

_‘Moving. Papers in order. Argued with N. on decision. Shouldn’t pursue this. Stupid.’_

_‘Set. New base location. New rules. 77.81. Def. con. 4 years. Do not allow full cycle! Watch for signs. Vigilance necessary. 85. next.’_

“Sam?” Gwen held out the book. “Did you see this?”

He looked at the page, read through it. “No,” he replied slowly. “I wasn’t to that point yet.”

“77.81.” She tapped a finger to that entry. “That’s the same set of numbers from that paper we found in one box.” Getting up, she retrieved the paper and that picture from her bag and brought it back to him. “Look. ‘77. 81. 85. LBGC?’ The numbers _are_ years.”

“A four year cycle? They were watching for signs of another one in 85.”

“Look at the picture. ‘Aaron and Mia C. with baby Gwen.’. Now look at the entries. A. and M.? N. taking G. to safety? Sam, I think this is talking about me. The letters LBGC are initials. Gwen C. Whatever the C stands for since it’s not Campbell.”

“Or the C is another first name. We can’t be sure. If it is about you, then you’re connected to that case somehow and if they never found M….”

“My birth mother could still be out there -- if it means Mia. Mom says A. is dead, but we can still look in case it’s not referring to Aaron. So we look in the boxes for files in those year ranges --”

“All the way up to the present in case it’s not a completely cold case --”

“ -- and pull files that show similarities, comparing them.”

“Plus referring back in Patricia’s diary for other entries regarding A. and M. to give clues on where to look in the files for further clues as to their identities.” He grinned. “It’s a plan, Gwen.”

She returned the smile, but it faded as a thought occurred to her. “There are like eighty boxes, Sam, all crammed with things.”

“It could take awhile. We’ll even have to go back through boxes we’ve already looked at.”

They both sighed.

“But we have a target now, something to shoot for.” Gwen closed the diary, with both pictures and that extra slip of paper marking the page. “It’ll be easier looking through the papers with some sort of parameters. We can all work on it when we’re at Bobby’s.”

“Good. This is good, right?”

Gwen nodded. “It’s very good. Maybe by this time next year, I’ll know who my birth parents are and what happened to them.” She took the diary to her bag and slipped it into one pocket. Sam cleared his throat and she turned.

“We should probably forget about the….” He touched a finger to his lips and Gwen felt a pang of disappointment to realize he meant their kiss. “It was an impulse and it won’t happen again.”

“I already said there’s nothing to apologize for, Sam. Besides, it’s forgotten. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

He eyed her a moment. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She did her best to look confused.

“For….” Sam’s lips curved into a slow, easy grin. “Right, right. So do you want to stay another day or head back to Bobby’s?”

“Back, of course. We’ve got a mystery to solve and I’m dying to get started.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

On the last day before they were to return to Bobby’s house, Dean and Jo sat down at the table together.

“Way I see it,” Dean began, “we have three things to talk about. Living, hunting, personal details. None of those are easy subjects at this point. Let’s start with the first and see where we end up?”

“Okay. We’ll start with living arrangements.”

“So, is it a house or apartment you want to rent?” He had it fixed in his mind that there’d be one or the other. They’d need to find one furnished, of course….

Jo stared at him a long moment, brows drawn together in a frown. “Dean, I don’t need either unless you’re dying to have them. The last time I had an actual home was when I was still living with mom and working at the Roadhouse. The…angel’s arrangements don’t count. Anyway, I’m used to living out of a bag and crashing at Bobby’s on occasion works fine for me. Not like either of us has a lot of stuff.”

“You don’t want a house? Really? A place of your own to decorate and all that girly stuff?”

An amused smile tugged at her lips. “I may have a girly streak, but I’m not _that_ girly. No, I don’t want that, at least not yet. Maybe in a few years we can do that, set up house somewhere. For now though, I’m content how we’ve been. I like traveling.”

“What about a home base of our own? I mean --”

“I know what you mean and I don’t think we’re at a place in our lives together where doing that makes sense. We’re not ready to become a mix of Bobby and the Campbells. Honestly, I think living somewhere on a regular basis is the last thing we need to look at doing.”

Her answer surprised him. He’d really thought she’d enjoy having a home of her own. Maybe he didn’t know Jo as well as he’d thought he did. “Okay. No house or apartment I guess. Yet.” Some day though. Some day he wanted that with her. “Now about hunting, I was thinking that we can easily add your supplies and bag to the trunk. The Impala --”

“No.”

“ -- has plenty of room…. What?”

“No. I said no.”

“Why?”

She directed another long stare at him. “Dean, I’m not riding in the back of the Impala. I’m not teaming up with you and Sam on a daily basis. We’re two separate hunting teams and it should primarily stay that way. You and Sam as one team and me, Gwen, and mom as the other. We all work best that way and you know it.”

“You’re my wife, Jo. I want you with me.”

“So we do something like work the same state or area, or work like we were, with meet-up dates.”

“Unacceptable. I’m not waiting months to see my own wife. I want you with me,” he repeated, “not possibly hundreds of miles away.”

“And I said no. I’m not getting in the middle of you and Sam as a team. You’d be too busy trying to protect me to do your job. It’s better if we keep our hunting careers separate most of the time.”

He snorted. “You mean you swear Ellen and Gwen to secrecy on how dangerous your hunts are and I never know if you’re in danger. No.”

“Did I ever do that, Dean?”

“Did you?”

“No. I’ve never sugar-coated for you ever. Why would I start that dishonest crap now?”

He knew she hadn’t, but it helped to hear her quick denial of such action. “Because you don’t want me to worry.”

“You’re going to worry no matter what I do or say. It’s the nature of loving other people. We worry about those we love, but we have a job to do and it’s an important job. We both need to be out there doing that job because a lot of hunters aren’t alive anymore. Those of us that are left are needed more than ever. Dean, I love you, you know that, but I’m putting my foot down on this. We’re two teams right now. We’ll see if it works still and if it doesn’t, we’ll make adjustments as we go.”

Sitting back, he crossed his arms and stretched his legs out beneath the table. “You’re putting your foot down?”

“I am.”

“You realize I can pick you and that foot up easily?”

“Will you stop being such a stubborn S.O.B. and bend a little? Try this for awhile. We can always adjust at any time. Adjusting is an option. Come on Dean. Make our own destiny, right?”

“My idea is us making that destiny together. One car, one team. Yours is not being together. Two cars, two teams. What’s the point of being married if we’re not together?”

“You’re impossible,” she announced. “It _is_ together, just not _working_ together most of the time. Do you really want to work together all the time, day in and day out? We’d drive each other crazy. Sam would shoot us both. Not to mention, what were you planning on doing with Gwen and mom? Shove them in the backseat, too?”

He gritted his teeth. She accused him of being stubborn, but she had a good share of that trait herself. “I want weekly meet-ups, not once a month or every three weeks. Weekly.”

“Every other week,” she countered.

“Weekly, or you’re sitting in the back of the Impala.”

“Try and make me.”

“Oh, I could.”

She snorted. “Don’t even think about trying that.”

“Weekly, then?”

Jo pursed her lips, fingertips tapping on the table. “Parallel hunts in the same state is the only way that could happen, requiring advance notice of cases, meaning we’d be working older cases, not the fresh ones. Do you want that?”

No, not really. He’d prefer the fresh cases. “Fine. Every other week,” he agreed with a grudging nod, “but we stay in the same region and when we meet up it’s for more than a single day. I want quality time with you in bed and out of it.”

“Every other week is better, but we’ll still be catching mostly cold jobs and cases don’t wait for you to have quality time with your wife.”

“Are you deliberately poking holes in your own plan, Jo?”

“Just pointing out all sides for you, sweetheart. You know, so you can’t claim you didn’t sign up for what you signed up for. Basically, we’ll be doing what we were after we got mom back. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You weren’t my wife then. I’ve got husbandly urges now, woman.” He uncrossed his arms. “But…we’ll try it with the option of tweaking things.”

“Good. While we’re on tough questions, where do you want to eat tonight?”

“Steak place.”

“That was quick.”

“Craving for a ribeye.” Dean sat up, placing his arms on the table and reaching for the deck of cards they’d had out. He shuffled the cards over and over. “Ready for another tough question?”

“Sure.” She turned in her chair, drawing a leg up and wrapping an arm about it, resting her chin on her knee. “Lay it on me.”

“What are we doing with that money we won?”

There was quiet as they stared at each other. After a moment, Jo licked her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never had thousands of dollars to play with. The closest I ever came to that was my college fund and mom had that pretty well locked down. She was pissed when I didn’t go back to school. I don’t know what to do with it, Dean.”

“Wealth, money, moolah….” He tapped one foot. “Do we be adult about it or do we spend like drunken sailors?” He was actually torn on the issue. While they should be realistic, he really wanted to be irresponsible and childish. At least for awhile. That same struggle reflected in Jo’s eyes.

“It’s just money,” she offered. “We’ve been perfectly fine without it, so does it matter what we do with it?”

“Good point. It is nice to have a little to play with.”

“I’d say put some in supplies, tuck some away --”

“Get Ellen’s car in top shape. If you’re determined to go out with them, I want you in a decent vehicle.”

“Which will still leave plenty to play with.” Jo tucked her hair behind her ears. “You know we’re not going to figure out all of this in a day, Dean. Maybe not even in a year.”

“I know, but if we can figure out something….” He set the cards down and reached out, taking her hand in his. “I want us to last, Jo. I don’t want us growing apart and becoming estranged. I want….”

“A modified happily ever after?”

“Something like that. Every day normal isn’t possible for us, I know that. I tried living that and it didn’t work. Hunters can’t have that because of everything we know and are. However, if we can manage to carve out something similar, I’ll be happy.”

She touched his face with her free hand, palm along his jaw, thumb sweeping across his cheek. “Sweetheart, you’re happy when you’re hunting and with Sam, out there doing your job. I want you out there and happy and I’m not my mother to go all pissed the second you leave on that job, like she was with my dad. I’ve been out there. I’m going to be _back_ out there. I know just how important what we do is and how important it is to have hunters who like their job. We can do this, Dean. We can make this life together.”

“You believe that?”

“I do. It’s possible and we will have to make our own path, going against what society says is normal. We can’t think about what normal is to other people, remember? We have to redefine the word for ourselves.”

He turned, hands moving to cup her face a moment before he slid his fingers in her hair. “You are more than I ever dreamed I’d have.”

“Ditto.”

“Ditto? I say that and you say ditto?”

“Hey, you said it so well….” Her lips curved in a mischievous grin.

Dean kissed her.

She was right. They weren’t going to figure it all out in a day or probably even a year, but maybe, possibly, they’d figure _something_ out and do it together.


	27. Chapter 27

After confirming with Sam that he and Gwen hadn’t spilled the beans to Ellen, Jo and Dean sat down with her at the kitchen table.

“How was the vacation?” Ellen smiled.

Dean had whispered to Jo that Sam and Gwen had only told her about the Trickster. Jo swallowed hard and clasped Dean’s hand in hers on top of the table. It was best to plow ahead and get the news out. “Mom, Dean and I eloped.”

Ellen nodded slowly. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“No, Ellen, no, Jo’s not…pregnant.” It sounded like Dean gulped. Hard. “She’s not.”

“Mom, no, God! I announce I got married and you think I’m knocked up?” She’d predicted that back in Vegas.

She pursed her lips a moment. “Damn. Are you sure you’re not? I wouldn’t be averse to a couple of grandbabies. I’m not getting any younger, you know. You’d better get on that.”

Jo blinked, then rolled her eyes, smacked Dean lightly on the arm and crossed her legs. “She’s joking. She thinks this is funny.”

Dean cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around hers. “Let me guess. You already knew?”

Ellen smiled and sat back. Was that a picture of Castiel on her shirt? “Sweetie, you two are practically glowing with newlywed bliss. Besides, I do recognize a wedding band-engagement ring set when I see it.” She held out her hand. “Let me see, Jo.”

She released Dean's hand and slid her hand across the table.

"That's a beautiful ring. You pick it out, Dean?"

Dean sat back. "I did pick it out. Sam called Bobby?"

"I doubt he did." Ellen shifted position, releasing Jo's hand. "So, was it a completely impulsive decision or did you think about the afterward at all?"

Jo glanced at Dean. “We’re taking it a day at a time.”

“You taking his name? Traveling with them? Or something else?”

She and Dean had only begun talking about how to work out a good arrangement, so of course her mother went right to the hard questions. While they’d decided on a beginning, Jo knew it was far from really decided. They were going to pick at it and rearrange until they finally had something to suit them.

“I want her to take my name,” Dean said, “but we’re still discussing the pros and cons of it.”

“Like, no reason to give the big bads another Winchester to go after. Still, I like tradition on that. I don’t know if I’ll really feel married unless I do take Winchester.”

“And all the name is,” he added.

Jo nodded. “And all it is. As for hunting, we thought we’d try out keeping two teams, meeting up every couple weeks, like we were doing.”

Ellen’s nod was slow, thoughtful. “I see. Well, I might as well tell you while we’re on the subject. I’m semi-retiring from hunting and field work.”

“Mom?” She frowned. The idea of Ellen semi-retiring any time soon hadn’t occurred to Jo. She’d known her mother was slowing down physically, but to semi-retire already?

“I’m thinking I’d like to go back to being a spotter, maybe get a place close so I can help Bobby and, of course, see all of you troublemakers when you’re in town. You and Gwen do fine on your own, Jo, and I find I’m actually not as worried about you as I used to be. I’m still anxious for you of course, but not desperate like I was. You and Gwen make a team, like Sam and Dean, and I’m a creaky, cranky third wheel.”

“You’re not,” Jo protested.

Beside her, Dean leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Is something wrong, Ellen?”

“No. I’d say something is pretty right. Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep busy. Thought I’d start looking for a place to live, maybe see if our storage unit is still there and drag out everything. It was set on automatic payments so unless the account ran out of cash, it should be there. This isn’t a quick decision. I’ve been thinking about it for four or five months now. Don’t look so surprised, either of you. Jo, you know the reason I found you to begin with was because I thought I could protect you if I was with you. Carthage blew that idea right out of the water. I couldn’t stop you from dying and I won’t be able to stop it if it happens again. Besides, I’m holding the two of you back.”

“No, you’re not. You’re an essential part of our team, like…like _Bobby_ is to Sam and Dean.”

Her mother’s smile was gentle and a bit wry. “And how often does Bobby actually go out on the job with them?”

It was a good point.

“He has his own life and it’s time I got back to mine. I need to be me again, Jo, and let’s face it, I was only hunting to try to keep you safe and be near you. If you’re coming here all the time, I’ll see you plenty and we already covered the safety bit.”

Dean placed a hand on Jo’s leg, giving it a light squeeze. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind, Ellen.”

“I have, but if something particularly juicy catches my eye, I’m willing to head out to the field. Anyway, those boxes of Gwen’s…. There’s a lot there to go through and there’s more information than I’ve seen in one place aside from Bobby’s collection of books. Dean, that side of your family really does go way back. As meticulous as some of those records are, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were able to trace them throughout Europe.”

“Seriously?” He sounded surprised. “I always thought Samuel was talking out his ass on that one.”

“Point is, I can put my skills to use making those papers into a database of information. Sam thinks digitizing it all is the way to go, putting it all in a computer so we can cross-reference easier, maybe even put some of it online for other hunters to find -- an encyclopedia of the weird and cold cases up for grabs kind of thing.”

Jo pondered the idea. If anyone could whip that information into something usable, her mother could.

“That’s actually a great idea, Ellen. No one’s tried before?”

“There’ve been attempts to organize over the years, but nothing like what we’re considering. I think we’ll start by just getting it all in a computer first, then make sense of it and decide what to do with it for sure. Even if we don’t put it online, you can have it on a file on your laptops.”

Jo covered Dean’s hand with hers. “It’ll be a lot of computer work, mom. Are you sure you want to wrestle with one for the sort of hours it’ll take to set it up?”

“Sam says he can get me going, that it’s not really as hard as I think.”

“He always says that,” Dean pointed out.

Ellen laughed. “That he does, but I trust him.” She looked at Dean. “I guess I can call you ‘son’ and really mean it now.”

“Just don’t call me ‘late for dinner’.”

“Smartass.”

“Better than being a dumbass.”

“Speaking of…. Want to hear all about Garth’s latest fiasco?”

“You had me at ‘Garth’,” Jo replied. “Do tell.”

Dean put an arm around her, drawing her closer and Jo pressed against him as her mother went into a long, drawn out story of Garth’s latest case. The telling of their news had been easier than she’d thought. Now, there was only Bobby left to tell.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam and Gwen were acting funny around each other. At first, Dean had chalked it up to the information Castiel had shared, but as one day of strange turned into four of them, he asked Sam to help him with Ellen’s car and made sure the car was far enough from the house that no one would overhear them.

Popping the hood, he inquired, “Dude, what happened between you and Gwen? You’re acting all weird.”

Sam scuffed a foot on the ground, hands in his pockets. “Yeah…. I sort of kissed her.”

“Someplace interesting I hope.”

“Dean.”

He peered at the engine. “When did you kiss her?”

“About twelve hours or so after Cas told us the truth.”

Dean whistled and glanced at him. “Thought I was a fast worker, Sammy, but that? Wow. Twelve hours between cousin and kissing cousin. That’s impressive.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, turning and leaning against the car. “It was an accident.”

“An accident? You accidentally kissed her?” He stood up straight. “How do you accidentally kiss someone? Not like you can trip and your lips lock.”

“We’d disagreed about something, it got heated, we fought, I was holding her down and I just…did it. I kissed her. She was threatening to scream and I thought ‘I have to shut her up’.”

“And you thought kissing her was the way to go.”

Sam sighed, a faraway expression in his eyes. “She looked so…freakin’ _hot_ right then, her hair coming out of the braid, shooting daggers at me with her eyes, body all heaving --”

“Okay, I don’t need a play-by-play, just an overview.”

“I wanted to do it so badly, so I did.”

Dean leaned beside him and crossed his arms. “She kiss you back?”

“Did she ever. I think if I hadn’t moved off of her she would have kissed _me_.”

He whistled low again. “You are hooked, man. Take her out, do the date thing, do the, uh, _bedroom_ thing.”

Sam shook his head, staring down at the ground. “I can’t. I told you before, it’s complicated.”

“You need to learn the difference between good complicated and bad complicated. This here, you and her?” He gestured with one hand. “That’s the good kind. Ruby was the bad kind. This is a good thing, Sam. She’s a hunter, raised to know about it all. She knows the life, the risks, everything. You want a woman who’ll get your issues? She’s right there. What are you waiting for?”

He blinked, frowned, and half smiled. “Are you giving me a re-run of the speeches I gave you about Jo?”

That stopped him for a second because actually, he was. “Maybe.”

“Dean,” Sam laughed a little, “I don’t need the speech, okay? Maybe she does understand and all of that. I still…. It’s complicated.”

“You’re making it complicated. Take my advice. Swallow the fear, take her out, and start getting personal.”

Sam didn’t reply to that, directing a pointed look at the car engine instead. “You really want help with that?”

“Nah. You can go back to getting Ellen set up on the computer.”

When Sam had gone, Dean sighed. He was going to have to be a bit more subtle in his speech next time. Recycling Sam’s own words wasn’t going to cut it. Sam was going to need prodding towards Gwen, though it sounded like she wouldn’t need much towards him. Maybe he should suggest Gwen take Sam out? Or have Jo do it?

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam and Dean knew where Gwen was, Samuel could feel it. Gwen had liked Sam right from the beginning and it had been obvious she’d liked Dean, too. Since he already knew she hadn’t run to any of the Campbells when she’d left, it had to have been those two she’d gone after.

He opened Neal’s journal on his desk and stared at the contents. Neal’s notes on that particular case were extensive and he’d devoted many pages of his journal to it and the aftermath. Samuel had read over this section a million times already and knew it all by heart. The picture that was supposed to be there was missing (he suspected nosy Arlene of taking it), but he didn’t need it. He’d never forget how Mia Carys was the spitting image of her daughter Gwen. Vaguely, he wondered if her genes were just that strong or if she’d used some sort of spell to achieve that.

There was still time before 2013, a few months in which to find Gwen or one of the other lost sacrifices listed there.

Samuel perused the pages and made a vow to himself. If he didn’t find Gwen by May, he’d look to the first on the list of sacrifices the Campbells had saved over the years. With Gwen no longer his insurance -- a contingency plan in case the deal with Crowley had gone south, which it had -- he’d look for that first sacrifice. When he found her, he’d hand her over to Mia for the price of having that first request once the ancient god was raised. Mia would agree. She needed him and the information he had. And if the first on that list was out of reach, he’d move through the rest of that list.

Soon he’d have Mary back and everything would be…perfect.

Samuel smiled and closed the journal.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby’s flight got in at 9:50 in the morning. By 11:30, Jodie was dropping him off. Ellen looked out the window. Jodie had one helluva tan and Bobby looked like he’d spent the weeks under a rock instead of in sun. They hugged before Jodie got back in her car and left.

Hmm, no kiss, Ellen mused. Because they know someone’s probably watching? Or because it really was a friend vacation?

Ellen held out a fifty before Bobby was even through the door all the way. “Here.” Despite Sam and Gwen’s help and then Uzziel’s, she’d pretty much failed the bet during the hours on her own.

“You’re conceding defeat?” He set his bags down and came to the table. “I thought we’d have to argue.”

“Just take it and don’t rub it in, okay old man?”

Taking the bill, he slipped it into the pocket on his shirt. “Make it look easy, do I?”

“I bow to your expertise.” Ellen made a half-hearted bowing gesture.

“No bowing necessary. Just a few ‘your majesty’s’ now and then. Anything particularly strange happen while I was gone?”

“First things first. You and Jodie?”

“Friends, like I told all of you trash minds. Dean’s present was unnecessary. We kept two rooms and had a great time. I’ll torture you with pictures and video later, but I didn’t bring back presents so don’t ask.”

Reaching onto the chair beside her, she picked up the t-shirt she’d saved for him and handed it to him. “Well, we got you a present. Or Uzziel did, rather.”

“Uzziel?” Bobby held up the shirt. “Just what I need, Castiel’s mug on my chest. Juicy story behind this?”

Dean had thoroughly enjoyed the full story behind Uzziel’s gift. Ellen had seen the wheels spinning in his mind as he thought up ways to tease Castiel about it.

“Fairly, but not as good as the next part.” She pointed at the chair across from her. “Sit.”

He sat. “Spill.”

“Gwen was adopted.”

“That’s not sit worthy.”

“Last part is.”

“And? Drop my jaw, Ellen.” It was a challenge.

She raised a brow. “Dean and Jo got hitched.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “Am I on candid camera?”

“Nope. Spur of the moment thing, but they’re going to redo the ceremony here with all of us to see it.”

“I go away for three weeks and you all go wild. What trouble did _you_ get into?”

Ellen shrugged. “An angel hit on me and gave me the best kiss I’ve had in years.”

“Cas?”

She laughed. “No, Uzziel.”

“Huh. Sam behave himself?”

“Oh…. He kissed Gwen.”

“Hopefully _after_ they learned she’s not a cousin.” His lips twisted in disgust. “Damn. I go away and then all the interesting things happen.”

Reaching out, she patted his hand. “Good to have you home.”

“Yeah, good to be home.”

“I’m officially passing the reigns back to you, but I, uh…. I figured out that cycle you were smirking about. The way I figure it, you’ve got about an hour to get unpacked and settled in before the phones start going off again.” She got up. “Sorry I can’t stay to help. I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Angel boyfriend?”

“No. Sam. He says I need a relaxing afternoon out, so he’s taking me to lunch and a movie.”

“Pity date.”

“Hey, at least I know he won’t hit on me like the last guy I saw a movie with.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Their second wedding wasn’t any fancier than the first. 

A friend of Bobby’s was officiating and it was held in Bobby’s living room. 

Jo came down the stairs. Bobby was waiting at the bottom. He’d agreed to give her away, since he sometimes acted like a father to her. Jo thought she detected a bit of moistness at his eyes, but didn’t say anything. She was a little teary herself. Gwen smiled, squeezed her hand, and walked into the room to take her place across from Sam and Dean. Sam was Dean’s best man, though had there ever been any doubt? Dean was wearing his good jeans and newest t-shirt and Jo wore a dress.

She didn’t wear dresses often, though a part of her really enjoyed the girly-ness of them. Even adult women weren’t immune to twirly skirts, she decided. Her dress was a simple sundress in baby pink. Jo left her hair down, loose and slightly curled, the way Dean liked it.

As she approached him on Bobby’s arm, she realized that this moment was perfect. It had everyone they loved present, there to help them celebrate the beginning of a new chapter of life.

~~~~~~~~~~

She was gorgeous. That was all Dean could think of as Jo walked towards him. She was beautiful and she was all his. The choice he’d made to pursue her had been the right one.

“You hurt her, I hurt you,” Bobby told him in a low, gruff voice as he placed Jo’s hand on Dean’s.

“What if she hurts me?”

“Then hurting her would be Ellen’s job.”

Dean grinned and glanced at Ellen, who wasn’t even trying to pretend she wasn’t bawling like a baby. She had a box of tissues on her lap and was steadily working her way through it. Even Jodie was a little misty eyed. Behind them, he saw Castiel appear, bringing with him Uzziel, Abigael, and a startled Chuck Shirley. Chuck met his eyes and suddenly grinned wide, as though very pleased by this ceremony. Dean wondered if Chuck was still having visions or if those had ended with Sam taking that dive into the cage. It was something to ask him later. He nodded once and returned his attention to Jo.

They’d written their own vows and it hadn’t been the agonizing experience he’d always imagined it would be. He’d had a ton of things he’d wanted to say. Editing had been the problem. Dean thought he easily could have talked for hours.

Jo was first, her voice trembling and husky as she spoke, her vow shorter than his, but no less emotional.

“I was lost in a terrible place and you found me and brought me home. You gave me back myself and made me feel whole. I love you, Dean Winchester, and I’ll go anywhere you ask as long as we’re together. You’re my husband until death.”

He grasped her hands in his, feeling them shake, and gave them a light squeeze. She hadn’t looked nervous in Las Vegas, yet did now. “When we first met, I was at a low point and it only got lower from there. I’d reached the bottom and was looking to fight my way back up when an angel brought you back in my life. The impossible became possible. I’ve never felt the way I do when I’m with you. I love you Jo, and I’ve said it in front of everyone. Progress, right? I want you to be my wife until death ends us. Sickness, health, richer, poorer, better or worse, I’ll take whatever comes with you by my side.”

With a kiss, their vows were sealed before friends and family and Dean felt a lightness settle inside him. His life was finally right and it felt good. He was married to the woman he loved and his relationship with Sam had never been better. The future was bright and he couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the back of the room, God -- disguised as mild-mannered, nervous writer and prophet Chuck, surveyed the gathering with a knowing gaze and pleased grin.

Dean and Jo, he thought, wait until you see what’s in store for you next. One fear down, one to go.

It was time to step things up -- for them, for Gwen and Sam, and even for Castiel and his merry band of angels. The future was indeed bright, but not necessarily easy, for any of them. The next few months were going to challenge all of them in ways they’d not anticipated.


	28. Part Three: Culmination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Dean and Jo face a new chapter in their life together, while the mystery of Gwen’s past becomes entangled in an ongoing case.

After the wedding, while Abigael took Chuck home and went to spend some time in the library visiting with friends, Castiel stayed with Uzziel, taking a few days to evaluate just how bad his level of temptation was and decide what to do about it. He went with Uzziel on his daily tasks, noted how he was with other angels, and finally took him into the throne room for a private chat.

“I’m not cut out for human interaction,” Uzziel began before Castiel even had the main door closed.

Uzziel’s voice was disappointed and depressed even, as though he’d dearly wished to jump right in to human interaction. Castiel suppressed a sigh. Why did they all seem to think getting along with humans should be easy? It had taken months to build a tentative personal connection with Dean and even longer for it to become a friendship. Slowly, they were all realizing that it wasn’t easy. Grasping the topics of the classes was simple until they had to put everything into practice with the goal of blending in.

Previously, they’d not given the matter of blending in much thought. They’d been content in their little bubble of dislike, staying as far away from humanity as they could. It hadn’t mattered to any of them if they fit in and management had encouraged the idea. Now, with the change in attitude that had swept heaven, they were all like…well…honestly, many they were like Castiel had been when he’d fallen. What was that word Dean had used? Ahh, yes. Clueless. 

Those who’d chosen to join the AMP were floundering and he appeared to be one of few who had any idea how to behave. The angels who’d fled to earth and returned seemed to lack self-restraint in some areas, Balthazar being a prime example of that. Castiel was going to have to hunt him down and have a few words with him on what was and wasn’t appropriate.

So far, the only group to spend more than a few minutes on earth was the dining class and after their first real meal, they’d had to go back to their first lesson on not appearing gluttonous. He couldn’t let this go on much longer, at least not without more specific guidelines and rules. He couldn’t allow angels to descend on earth en masse to study. They’d all be found out if they were as enthusiastic as Uzziel and that disaster Castiel had previously predicted would occur.

“I should organize matters up here, concentrate on keeping the program running, while you liaison below.” Uzziel sat on the edge of the dais. “I’m sorry, Castiel. I’ve failed you.”

“You haven’t failed me.” Castiel joined him, letting his sigh slip free. Uzziel’s longing to be on earth had only seemed to increase after his time there in South Dakota and Cas was at a loss as to how to address it, so he decided to begin with the assumption all of them had made about him personally and work forward. “Uzziel, I’m not the angel you all seem to think I am. You’ve put me up as the face of new heaven, a folk hero crusading for peace with humanity, but that’s not who I am.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I didn’t fall for humanity. I fell because it was the right choice. You’re aware of the full circumstances. Dean encouraged me to do the right thing and think for myself. Half the time, I’m flying by the seat of my pants, taking what seems the right choice. I’m not a hero. I don’t belong on a pedestal.”

Uzziel crossed his arms. He was crossing over into sulks now. “You’re _something_ special. Far more than any of us. God chose you out of all of us.”

“The lowest of the angels, a grunt. It is how he works, humbling the proud and so on. I’m doing the best I can with what he’s graciously given me.” He studied the throne room. The balloons, tables, and throng of angels were gone, the reverential feeling returned. “My point is, if I can do the things I have, how much more could others accomplish? Your enthusiasm is admirable. I wish we all had such fervor, but you need to pull back even further. It’s little steps, Uzziel. Give it time.”

“All we have is time.”

Castiel considered how best to say what he had to say next. He was afraid Uzziel simply couldn’t handle the pressure of personal angel-human relations. Perhaps it would be best if he remained in heaven as suggested. “As for going back down, I believe you’re right. It’s not a good idea. You’re too susceptible to falling.”

Uzziel looked at him and uncrossed his arms. “I hadn’t anticipated the longing. Ellen makes being human seem fun, a constant adventure. I don’t understand it. I never had that before. I never desired to be closer to one of them and I do. I could sit and watch her sleep -- and did. I wondered about her….”

It was Ellen that appealed to him. Castiel had seen firsthand how Uzziel was with her. The casual dinner after Dean and Jo’s wedding had given him a glimpse of Uzziel’s affection for Ellen, though Ellen had tried to steer clear of him. The feelings he was developing for her were not like the ones Castiel had for his friends. They had definite romantic leanings and were a fast track to falling. Friendship was one thing, romance another entirely. Romance would bring a desire to spend more time with that person until leaving heaven seemed a little thing. If they didn’t nip it before it got too far, Uzziel could make an impulsive decision he’d regret.

Cas did understand what Uzziel was going through. He’d experienced the strange sensation of feelings he’d not thought he could have prickling at him, pleasant and not at the same time; that urge to know more; the wondering if this was how humans felt, and more. In the end, the choice was Uzziel’s, but Cas would do all he could to help him remain an angel.

“She may be lighthearted now, but it hasn’t always been that way. She was different before she died. Jo was too. They’ve both grasped that their second chance at life is a unique thing. They’re making the most of whatever time they have remaining. What is it about her that you like?”

“I feel when I’m with her. Is that normal, Castiel? To feel emotions now? I enjoy her company. I want to spend more time with her and leave my duties….” A bit of anguish slipped into his gaze. “I can’t stop thinking about her! I close my eyes and I picture her face.”

“I understand. Do you wish to leave heaven?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Consider what falling entails, Uzziel. When you joined me, you said you hoped to find favor with God by changing sides. Would leaving heaven bring you favor? Look at the circumstances. Why would you be falling?”

“Out of selfish desire,” he whispered, eyes slipping shut.

“You’d be abandoning your job, your heavenly appointment, to become fully flesh. Your angelic powers would slip away, you’d lose the connection with your vessel and he’d cease to be conscious in any way. You’d be alone in that body, cut off from him and from all of us. It’s a lonely existence, Uzziel. Believe me. Losing the connection to us is bad, but the moment you lose the vessel connection you’ll feel hollow inside and terribly alone in a way you never have. It’s deep loneliness that only grows as days pass.” He was deliberately harsh with his words, using a hard tone. “You’d forever crave a reunion with us that you’d never have, even upon death. That’s what your choice means. Eternal separation. You’d mourn your angelic identity throughout eternity and the pleasures of humanity would become bitter ashes as you lived in a decaying body until it gave out.”

In the back of his mind, he heard a very faint, ‘Don’t sugar coat it or anything, Cas.’ It took a second to realize he was hearing Jimmy’s comment on the conversation. It wasn’t often Jimmy said anything anymore. Most days Cas forgot he was still there.

“I need to think.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ve a matter to attend to. I’ll find you later and see what your decision is.”

He decided to go ahead and confront Balthazar. Searching for him took Castiel on a fairly thorough tour of heaven and he finally found him chatting with two angels in busty vessels. At his sudden appearance, the two angels exchanged a worried glance and hastily fled the hallway.

“You’ll refrain from sending anyone else to earth.”

Balthazar blinked. “Ooh, I’ve riled you up. Did Uzziel have a spot of difficulty below?”

“You know he did.”

“He’s such fun to tease.”

“You deliberately sent him towards his greatest temptation. Why?”

He crossed his arms. “Your second-in-command shouldn’t have that weakness. He should be able to mingle with _them_ as you do.”

There was a shifting in Balthazar’s eyes and Castiel suddenly saw the real issue. Balthazar was jealous. He thought he was better qualified than Uzziel to be second-in-command. Castiel almost groaned. He didn’t have time to deal with every angel around him who began exhibiting strong emotion of some sort. “He stays second.”

“Why?”

“I trust him.”

“You used to trust me.”

“Those days are gone. You have to gain my trust and sending the brother I depend on into temptation’s way won’t get you that. You have a lingering dislike for humans that automatically disqualifies you from the position. Not to mention you’re causing trouble wherever you go up here.”

“Then give me something to do, Cas! I’m stagnating here doing nothing. The greatest enemy here these days is boredom and Uzziel’s guard keeps me from doing anything remotely fun.”

“Take the classes, all of them, and if you behave yourself, I’ll consider giving you a position of some sort.” What position Balthazar could possibly qualify for in the present heaven he didn’t know. That would be something to think long and hard on. It’d need to be something that would keep him busy, important enough to keep his jealousy at bay, and yet nothing that would endanger any other area of heaven if he became mischievous.

“Classes,” he scoffed.

“Would you rather be banished from heaven?”

“You don’t have the authority.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

For a long moment, it looked like he might test Castiel’s authority, but then Balthazar backed down. “Fine. We’ll do this your way, but I won’t promise to actually like those hairless apes.”

Balthazar was also a good example of another sort of angel currently running around heaven: the ones who didn’t hate humans exactly, yet still didn’t really like them, and had only backed Castiel because they despised Raphael. “Don’t call them that.”

“It’s what they are.”

“Balthazar.”

“Fine. I’ll be politically correct. I’ll take those classes and be staid and boring and all those things Uzziel is.” Turning on his heel, he walked away.

He didn’t know Uzziel very well if he thought Uzziel was staid and boring. Still, as long as Balthazar behaved himself long enough for Castiel to get other things taken care of, he’d be quite happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was avoiding her.

Gwen hadn’t been sure of that for awhile, since she and Jo had left on a job a couple days after the second wedding and so had Sam and Dean. They’d met up in Ohio, then again in Rhode Island, and so on, and by the time Thanksgiving arrived, Gwen knew Sam was avoiding her. How did she address it when he disappeared off by himself when they met up? It wasn’t that he wasn’t polite or anything because he was, he simply didn’t stick around to chat like they used to. If he kept this up, she was going to start getting ticked by it because this current arrangement had her feeling lonely when Jo and Dean were together. She was tired of doing things by herself and getting hit on in the bars wasn’t really fun unless she had someone to snark about it with. She missed going to the movies with him or just playing cards in the room. 

At least she wasn’t the only one not entirely pleased at present. Jo and Dean weren’t happy with the hunting arrangement either and Gwen wasn’t really surprised. They were newlyweds. In her opinion, they needed to take the time to act like it. Jo had been making discontented noises about how they might need to change the program. Part of Jo seemed pissed at the prospect and Gwen wondered why. If they changed it up and began building a home base, she’d see Dean more often. Gwen kept out of it, however, and wondered if Sam was keeping out of whatever Dean’s thoughts were on it. She’d know if he’d actually talk to her anymore.

She unpacked a little while Jo was out getting munchies, looking forward to working a joint case. From the bare bones Dean had told them on the phone earlier, it sounded like a doozey and her favorite kind of doozey. Missing men and a puzzle at the crime scenes. Maybe she could use her new i.d. -- Gwen Starling. She wouldn’t be surprised if Dean had a Lecter hidden among their i.d.s. It had almost become a competition between them these days to see who could come up with the funniest names to use.

Her phone rang and she picked it up. Wonder of wonders. It was actually Sam. She answered and what he had to say left her breathless and nervous.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen had to know he was avoiding her and Sam felt bad about that. He missed their long talks that lasted into the wee hours and in general, her company.

He’d needed the time to think, however, and try to get his head straight on their relationship. There was a lot he’d wanted to consider before being alone with her again. Did he want to pursue a deeper relationship? Did he want to take the risks emotionally? The answers to those questions were yes and yes. He did want more, so he was going to do it. It was time to take Dean’s advice -- and Jo’s, Bobby’s, Ellen’s -- and ask Gwen out. He didn’t have a specific plan in mind and thought they could play it by ear. Dinner maybe. A movie. Drink afterwards. 

While Dean was getting provisions for the room, he took out his phone and dialed Gwen’s number. 

Jo would be out with Dean, spending as much time with him as possible. After having snack shopped with them together once, he’d decided never again. Jo couldn’t make her mind up any more than Dean could and a ten minute task when Sam did it took them over an hour together. They’d stand there and debate what snack foods went better with what beers and if certain ones could be mixed together for maximum nutrition less noshing. After that, they’d move to the fresh foods, Jo scrutinizing each item before bagging it like she was looking for clues on a job. She’d claimed it was Ellen always did and that she was only following her mother’s example. Neither would consider taking his suggestion of writing out a shopping list beforehand.

Ten minutes versus an hour? No way. Besides, he wouldn’t put it past Dean and Jo to deliberately drag out the task so he’d decide not to go with them, thus giving them time alone.

Gwen answered on the third ring. “Sam? What’s up?”

“Gwen, hi. I was wondering if you had plans for tonight?”

“Is the case discussion dinner with Dean and Jo cancelled?” She sounded oddly hopeful.

“They can discuss without us. Not like we won’t discuss it plenty in the morning once we get started.”

She was quiet a moment. “Are you asking me on a date, Sam?” Was that a touch of flirtatiousness in her tone?

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Is that…something you’d be interested in?” He bit his lip, heart pounding as he waited for her answer.

“What time?”

“I could swing by your room about six? That’d give us time to eat and catch a movie after.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

It wasn’t until after the conversation that nervousness set in. He changed shirts four times, combed his hair several different ways, and shaved.

Dean came in the room, carrying several plastic bags in both hands. The bags were almost bursting. “Jo’s got the healthy stuff and we’ve got the rest, though she wouldn’t relinquish the cheese popcorn.” He set the bags down.

Probably because she knew Dean would eat all of it and she’d have to go buy another bag. “You buy beer?”

“Of course. What am I, a heathen? Three kinds. Yours and mine, Jo’s, and Gwen’s. Where did Gwen get a taste for that nasty ale stuff?” He lifted the lid on the cooler and started filling it.

“I don’t know.” Sam went into the bathroom and ran a comb through his hair again.

Dean finished with the cooler and closed the lid. “We should head out early, grab a good table before Jo and Gwen get there, check out the atmosphere.”

“I can’t, Dean.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Come on, let’s go.” He jerked a thumb at the door.

“I can’t,” he repeated, checking his reflection. His shirt looked buttoned properly and his jaw was nice and smooth -- just in case. “You and Jo can get started.” He reached for his aftershave, debated a minute, then dabbed on a little bit to freshen it up.

Dean leaned against the doorjamb. “And where might you be going, young man?” One brow arched.

“I…have a date…with Gwen.” Sam tried to say it like it was a normal thing and knew he didn’t succeed.

His gaze lit up with surprise and Dean grinned. “Well, it’s about time, Sammy! Way to go!” He sounded like a cheerleader.

“Don’t make a big deal about it, okay?”

Standing up straight, Dean spread his arms. “Would I do that?”

“Totally. Yeah, you would.” Sam nodded and turned to leave the bathroom, but Dean remained in the way, raising his hands in a ‘stop’ gesture.

“Okay, okay. I get you. Not a big deal.” Slowly, he stepped back, letting Sam by him. As Sam reached for his coat, he added, “Just a casual date between two consenting adults that have the hots for each other.”

“You’ve no facts on which to base that. It’s opinion.” He drew the coat on. He didn’t really need it now, but would later, especially if they were out late.

“Dude, a blind man could see the sex eyes you make at each other.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” he scoffed. “We don’t make…. She makes sex eyes at me?”

“Oh, all the time.”

“Huh.” He frowned. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I noticed it for you. Yup. Nice casual date. It also happens to be the first real chance for sex that you’ve had in months.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Dean.”

“Anytime.” He clapped a hand on Sam’s back. “So…. Do you _think_ you’ll get to first base?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Second? Third?” He shrugged his brows. “Homerun? Yeah?” He reached for his bag. “Let me give you some condoms. Be prepared for anything, like the boy scouts.”

“I don’t need condoms.”

“Ahh, living dangerously.” He nodded in a knowing fashion and brought out a container anyway, plucking out a few and tucking them into the pocket of Sam’s coat. “Or is she bringing them? I can see her doing that. Bringing her favorite brand along.”

“We’re not going to have sex,” he protested. “It’s only a first date. No sex.”

“Not with that attitude you’re not.”

“Look, it’s dinner and a movie. We’ve done that before. I know exactly what she’ll order at dinner and what movie she’ll want to see. We’ll get popcorn to share at concessions and she’ll get Twizzlers --”

“Twizzlers, huh?” Dean scratched his temple with his forefinger, tossing the condom box back on the dresser. The lid flopped open and the condoms spilled out across the surface. “Kind of suggestive don’t you think?”

“I didn’t until you said that.”

“Just trying to help. How does she eat them?”

“What do you mean, how does she eat them?”

“How does she eat them,” he repeated slowly, placing emphasis on each word. “It’s not a hard question, Sam. Does she drag it out, sort of suck on them, or plow through them kind of like I do with a good steak?”

“I, uh, never paid attention before.” He dug the file out that he’d started and flipped it open, checking to make sure the clippings and notes were all there, then laid it on the table so Dean could take it with him.

Dean held up a finger, smirking. “Pay attention, because if it’s the former?” That finger pointed at him. “You’re _so_ getting lucky tonight.”

“Right. I don’t need your help.”

“Sure. Don’t bring her back here for playtime, okay? I’m having sex with my wife tonight.” His smirk deepened into another grin. “You know, I like the sound of that. ‘Sex with my wife.’ Sort of rolls off my tongue. Sex with my wife.” He repeated the phrase two more time, gesturing with his hands each time.

“I thought the plan was to go out and discuss the case.”

“I can persuade her otherwise, get the magic fingers working.”

“There’s no magic fingers on these beds,” he pointed out.

“Not that kind, Sam.” He held up a hand, wiggling his fingers.

Sam sighed, realizing what Dean meant. “That was too much information.”

“Have fun, be safe, and sleep in tomorrow. I figure we’ve got about four days before the next poor bastard disappears.”

Shaking his head, Sam left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the past, Gwen had never cared much about her clothes. She preferred functional with the occasional girly detail, but now she was wishing she’d bought something a little prettier. All she had were t-shirts and other things Sam had already seen on her tons of times.

Jo laid on the end of one bed. “Why are you spazzing out about this?”

She paused, looking at herself in the mirror. No, not this shirt. She hated it on herself now. “Because it’s a date, Jo.”

“And? You’ve eaten with Sam alone hundreds of times, gone to the movies, done a million other activities. It’s no big deal.”

Did Jo really not get that it was different now? Gwen had been letting herself notice things about Sam, like his voice, calm and tender at times, or the strength in his body -- he could pick her up with one hand if he wanted. Or how good his aftershave smelled and the fact that the wound she’d once stitched up had barely left a scar. “It’s a date. It’s date things. What am I going to talk to him about?” She switched shirts, hated that one and went back to her first choice.

With a laugh, Jo sat up. “You’re kidding me, right? Gwen, it’s Sam. You two never run out of things to talk about and you’re comfortable sitting in silence together. I’ve seen you do it for hours. You’re worrying over nothing.”

She blew out a breath. “I’m nervous. My palm are sweating and I…. I can’t screw this up, Jo. We all work well together and if I mess up, that’s over. I should cancel.”

“You’ll do no such thing! Put your shoes on, grab your coat, and get your butt ready for when he knocks.”

“Am I being stupid?” She put her shoes on.

“Yes. Geez.” Jo swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t think of it as a date.” She stood. “If you do get personal though, go ahead and bring him back here. I’ll be in with Dean tonight.”

There was a knock on the door. Gwen’s stomach did a nervous tremble.

Jo opened the door and gestured at Gwen like a tv game show hostess showing off a prize. “She’s ready.”

Sam looked as nervous as Gwen felt and she stepped outside, falling in step beside him.

Behind them, Jo called, “You kids have fun! No curfew tonight!”

When they turned the corner away from the rooms, Sam glanced behind them. “I take it Jo was as delightful as Dean about this?”

“Very cavalier. Like a proud mama sending her baby out into the world.”

“They have plans tonight, too.”

“I’m guessing those plans largely include your room.”

“You’d be right.”

“Ten bucks says your things are in my room when we get back.” It could go either way, actually, depending on how quickly Dean charmed Jo’s clothes off her --or vice-versa.

Sam thought for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay. Ten bucks. Dean’ll have to pack me back up because everything’s spread out right now.”

Dinner went well in her opinion. They got into a discussion on Ellen’s frustrations with the computer work (she claimed the computer was possessed) and then a discussion on Ellen’s findings (the Campbell’s certainly liked their secrets, hoarding them even). They’d talked so long in the restaurant that they had to run to make the movie on time. They got popcorn and Twizzlers and halfway through the movie, Sam put his arm around her. He was being such a gentleman that Gwen just settled in to enjoy it, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

It felt natural then when his head turned, his lips finding hers in the darkened theater. The movie was forgotten. The pressure of his lips was slight at first, different from that kiss back in the hotel a couple months earlier, a tentative touch, almost teasing. He cupped her jaw with a hand, thumb sweeping across her cheek, and just when she thought he was going to tease forever with soft kisses, he deepened the caress, lips slanting on hers, tongue slipping into her mouth.

The tone of it changed, a heat rising inside her as he became more demanding. She turned in her seat. Her heartbeat quickened and she reached out, hand sliding against his side, his shirt soft beneath her fingertips. Gwen found the lower edge of his shirt and slipped her hand beneath the fabric. His skin was hot, smooth.

He drew back a fraction, pressed another butterfly soft kiss to her lips, and turned back to watch the movie.

Gwen watched him for several minutes, remaining where she was, a bit confused as to why he’d stopped. She withdrew her hand from beneath his shirt, leaned over, and whispered, “Why’d you stop?”

“Teenagers behind us gawking.” He took her hand in his.

“So?”

“They paid to see a movie, not a show at the movie.”

“So?” Who cared what some teenagers thought?

“We need to be unmemorable, remember? Don’t want to get tossed out of here and maybe have someone remember us later.”

It seemed a lame excuse to her overall, yet still made a point. No excessive PDA in public. “Oh. Right.” Gwen sat back in her seat. 

She wondered then if Dean and Jo had ever actually left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’d wanted to keep kissing her. He’d wanted to forget the rest of the movie, leave early, and spend the night finding out if she was a wild woman in bed or not. Gwen’s disappointment when he’d stopped was more than obvious and the excuse he’d given was just that -- an excuse. Maybe it had a basis in fact. It was still an excuse to give himself time to think.

Sam’s bag was on the bed Jo’d claimed as hers and hadn’t slept in. He touched it with a hand. “You want two fives, a ten or some singles?”

“A ten is fine.” Gwen took off her jacket and tossed it on the end of her bed. She stretched, the t-shirt she wore clinging to her curves in a way that made him want to peel it off of her and explore every inch of her.

He dug a ten out and handed it to her before glancing at the door. “I’m going to get another room.”

“We have two beds. Not a big deal, right?” 

“Well, I thought to give you some privacy….”

“Sam, really? You’re gonna play that card now? We’re adults. We’ve shared a room before,” she reminded him.

“I know.” 

But this was the first time they’d be sharing it directly after what he considered to be a wildly successful first date. There was no downtime to think. He needed downtime or he’d rush headlong to her and their relationship would end up a whirlwind of attraction and need. Not that that didn’t have it’s place. It did. He just wanted to make sure he was ready to take that step before he did it. There wasn’t going to be the mistake he’d made with Ruby. He was going to be rational.

It was partly to guard himself emotionally, he knew that. Gwen made him feel vulnerable and very…young. Well, he thought, she _was_ an older woman by two years even though she didn’t look it.

“I want to take this slow, Gwen. I want to,” he considered the word that’d best convey his feelings, “ _savor_ the journey with you. I want to let us --”

“Simmer,” she replied with a spark of excitement in her eyes. Slowly, she smiled. “You’re such a gentleman sometimes, Sam.”

He wondered if she remembered how he’d gone from woman to woman when he’d been without his soul and hoped almost desperately that she’d forgotten that. “Sometimes,” he agreed and reached out, hand sliding through her hair. Leaning down, he kissed her, putting all of the pent-up heat inside him into it, feeling her almost seem to melt against him. Right at the moment he began to want to drag her against him and to hell with taking things slow, he forced himself to pull away and step back from her.

The dazed look in her eyes sent a primal surge of satisfaction careening though him. “Damn, you’re good at that.”

“But when I decide not to be a gentleman, there’ll really be fireworks.”

“I believe you.” One hand raised, ran along her neck and shoulder. “”It’s very hot in here now.”

Smiling a little, he shouldered his bag. “Sleep well, Gwen.” He was opening the door when she spoke again.

“Sam Winchester, you’re a tease.”

He stepped outside. “Maybe.”

“I had no idea.” She appeared delighted by it, eyes wide, a delicate flush on her cheeks.

How cool was it that he’d made Gwen blush? With a last lingering glance, he closed the door. Maybe Dean and Jo had the right idea on anticipation.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi-quote from ‘Miss Congeniality’ in this chapter, adapted to the scene.

Gwen was getting dressed after an early morning run and shower, when Jo texted her.

_‘I need to come in the room.’_

_‘So come in.’_

_‘I don’t want to interrupt anything.’_

Interrupt anything? What did Jo think was going on? _‘Like what?’_

_‘Is Sam awake? R U decent?’_

_‘Sam’s not here.’_

_“WTH?????’_

She heard the key in the lock and the door opened.

“Where is he,” Jo demanded, stepping inside and letting the door slam shut.

“Presumably either in his room or out having an early breakfast.” She pulled on a hoodie over her t-shirt. “Did you come here just to check if we were in the same bed?”

“No.” Jo made a face at her, then crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe. What do you mean ‘his room’? Dean said --”

“He went and got his own room last night. You two didn’t realize he’d been doing that?”

“Obviously not. Why?”

“Sam’s playing hard to get. He wants to take things slow and if the kisses he laid on me last night are anything like the rest of the ride, I’m willing to let it build for maximum enjoyment.”

“Oh.” She blinked, smiling a little. “ _Oh_. I see. Well, I really did need to come in here. I left my makeup bag in here somewhere….” She looked around, finally plucking the bag from the floor by the head of the bed she’d initially chosen. Opening it, Jo removed a pink packet and took one pill. “There. You ready for breakfast?”

“Dean’s awake? It’s not even seven-thirty yet.”

“He’s starving. He ate snacks in the room already, claims he’s getting fueled up for the big hunt, practically chomping at the bit to get at whatever is working the town. I told him he’s not a hobbit and doesn’t need a second breakfast, but you’d think I was trying to starve him by saying that. He wants to try the place down the street.”

Gwen put on her shoes and grabbed her coat. “Are we doing the file overview at the restaurant or back in the guys’ room?”

“I know nothing. For all I know we’re skywriting it for the whole town to see.”

They walked fast to the restaurant, arriving as Dean did.

He had a folder under one arm. His stare was puzzled and curious as they waited for the hostess to seat them. “Where’s Sam?”

“Not there,” Jo told him. “Call him and tell him we’re here.”

“Bad date last night,” he asked, with a raised brow in Gwen’s direction.

“No.” Gwen didn’t elaborate, which she knew was going to drive him crazy.

“And….?”

She smiled.

Dean scowled. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m tons of fun, Dean, but I’m not sharing.”

He raised a hand, finger pointing, and opened his mouth only to be distracted by the hostess asking how many in their party. “Four. Booth is great. Thanks.” When they’d sat and had menus and coffee and called Sam, he cleared his throat. “Just tell me if you had a fun time.”

“If Jo wants to tell you what I told her, she can.”

His gaze transferred to Jo, who smiled a sweet smile and didn’t say a word. “Et tu, Brute,” he said.

Gwen opened her menu, looking at it until Dean lost interest in trying to pry details from her and headed off to the restroom.

“It _was_ a good date, right,” Jo asked.

“It was an excellent date.”

Jo stirred her coffee. “I’m glad. You were nervous last night.”

Gwen glanced to the back of the restaurant. “You two talk about arrangements yet?”

She groaned. “Change topic. I’m not ready to settle in one place and nothing short of drastic will make me. I like traveling, Gwen. It’s freedom, you know? Seeing the world.”

“You can still do that with a home base.” She didn’t understand the aversion to it. Thought out well, it was a terrific plan. “I traveled quite a bit when I was still at the compound working for family.”

Jo’s back was straightening and shoulders tensing, a sure sign she was losing her good mood for the day and Gwen dropped the subject. Some day, hopefully soon, they’d all have a long talk about it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam stepped into the restaurant and paused, looking for the others. The hostess approached him, but he smiled and motioned at the table where Jo and Gwen were. “I see my party, thanks.” He slid into the booth across from Gwen and Jo. Gwen looked pleased to see him, a small smile of greeting on her lips. “Hey.” He lifted his chin a bit with the word.

She responded in kind. “Hey.”

He slid his gaze to Jo, whose grin was pleased and gaze knowing.

“ _Hey_ ,” she said, drawing out the word.

“Hey.” He frowned a fraction. It was far too early for Gwen and Jo to have had a talk about the date last night. Wasn’t it? Though maybe not. Jo had that expression that indicated she had a good idea what had and hadn’t transpired the night before.

Dean came to the table. “Hey, I --”

“Hey,” all three of them replied in unison.

Dean blinked. “That was a tad Stepford creepy. I, uh, I had a thought on the case while I was in the library. Move over, Sammy.” He slid in beside Sam, raised his coffee cup and took a drink, then grimaced. “It’s cold.”

“Library,” Sam asked. Jo and Gwen both pointed to the back of the restaurant at the restroom sign. “Of course. Library. Should have known.”

Their server appeared, a pretty young woman with curly black hair so dark and true black in shade that it had a faint blue cast beneath the lights. She glanced over them and smiled wide at Dean. “What can I get for you?”

“Hi, uh, _Molly_.” He smiled that friendly charming smile Sam had seen him use often to charm young women and tapped his cup with a finger. “Would you be a sweetheart and pour this out for me? It’s gone ice cold. My fault, I know, but --”

“Oh, of course. I’m happy to help.” She was back in a minute, cup and pot in hand. “I just brought you a fresh cup.” She poured coffee for him. “Sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

“Cream?”

“No, this is good.”

“Great.”

Gwen and Jo slid their cups over to be refilled and Sam turned his cup over to have a cup himself.

Molly ignored the cups, focusing solely on Dean. She put the coffee pot on the table behind her and took a pad of paper and pencil from her apron pocket. “What can I get for you, honey?”

Across the table, Jo’s brows rose, an amused light settling in her eyes. “Yeah, honey, what can she get for you?”

He ordered and it was no real surprise to Sam when Molly appeared to forget the rest of them were there and began to walk off. Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, Molly?”

She turned. “Yes?”

“I think everyone else with me might like to order, too.”

Her embarrassed stutter was pure fakery. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry! It’s totally been one of those mornings!” Her reception to the rest of them was more than chilly however, and when she left, Jo touched her tongue to her upper lip a moment, then grinned.

Under her amused regard, Dean seemed to squirm a little. “What,” he asked.

“She thinks you’re _gorgeous_ , she wants to _kiss_ you,” she sing-songed.

“Oh, geez, Jo.”

“She wants to _hug_ you, she wants to --”

“Okay, Gracie, enough.”

She laughed, then peered at the counter. “I’m going to go get a pot of coffee.” Upon returning and filling up their cups, she asked, “What was your thought, Dean?”

He scowled. “It’s gone now. I’ll remember it later.”

Molly wasn’t the one who brought their food, nor was she the one who left the check for them. Sam wondered vaguely where she’d gone, but as they got into discussing the case, he forgot all about her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean wasn’t tempted by the young waitress. He was a married man after all and he’d made a commitment to Jo. Still, a little flirting was okay. Flirting didn’t mean he was going to stray. It was simply a nice ego boost in the morning when he felt about fifty instead of his real age.

Jo spent the morning teasing him about it but finally sobered once they had the wall mostly ready to study. She shuddered, perusing the wall of clippings and information, her gaze settling on the plastic baggie tacked up. “Snakes. Gross.”

“You don’t like snakes?” Dean added another clipping. As usual, Sam had been thorough in his part of their investigation.

“Name me one woman who does. They’re all slithery and nasty.”

“I knew a stripper once who --”

“What do we know?” Gwen came to the wall, crossing her arms, eyes narrowed in concentration. He knew that expression well. It meant that, come hell or high water, they were going to figure it out if she had any say in the matter.

Sam got up from the table and joined them. “Six men have disappeared in the past two months. The last one had a life-sized statue of himself in his living room.”

“He apparently suffered a good supply of hubris,” Dean commented. “In each one except the last one, the houses and apartments had a weird stone dust stuff all over the place.” He pointed at the second clipping. “This guy’s wife came home from caring for her sick mother and said the dust wasn’t there when she’d left a week earlier. She seems more concerned that he left dust than that he left at all.”

Sam chuckled. “Which might have something to do with the lingerie she found under a couch cushion.” He indicated one picture. “It wasn’t hers. She’s a matronly, kind of heavy woman and this stuff was for a woman about a fourth her size.” He touched the clipping of the fifth victim. “This guy had a reputation for catting around on his wife.”

“Blondes, brunettes, redheads…he liked them all. Sometimes together.” Dean removed the baggie from the wall and held it up. “And this is the snakeskin Jo’s freaking out over.” He waved it playfully towards her just to see her lean back with a disgusted curl of her lip and make a squealing noise. It wasn’t often he saw her behave like that, so he milked it for all it was worth. Spiders, scorpions, mice, rats, and roaches she was fine with. Snakes? Not so much. He wondered what Gwen disliked that much. Bats? Maybe he’d have time for a few practical jokes later to figure it out. “It was all over the scenes, mixed in with the dust.”

“Dean, stop. Quit being a jerk.” Jo put her hands on her hips. “I’m guessing none of them have snakes for pets.”

“Bingo.” Dean put the baggie back up and slid an arm around her waist. “All forgiven?”

“Maybe.” She leaned against him. “If you don’t do it again.”

“But you’re so cute and girly about it. I can’t resist.”

“How are they all connected?” Gwen stepped close, gaze moving from clipping to clipping, item and picture to item and picture. “They are connected right? Figured that out yet?”

“All married and all liked some booty on the side.”

“Cheating dogs,” she replied.

“Exactly.” Sam crossed his arms. “I have a theory. It’s still coming together, but….”

“Do tell,” Dean sighed and stared at the picture of the lingerie then at the snakeskin. Something he’d seen was scratching at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t bring it into focus.

“First, we have cheating men, who disappear, leaving behind stone dust. We have snakeskin. Now, I’ve been doing some reading and this might seem like a stretch at first. What if what we’re dealing with….” Sam made that face he made when he thought it was a ridiculous theory and Dean was going to laugh. His brows drew down a fraction and his jaw tensed.

Gwen backed up to stand beside him. “Is a gorgon. Right? A gorgon. Greek myth. Um…Medusa, with hair that’s snakes, turns people to stone when they look in her eyes. It could fit.”

Sam’s gaze shifted to her and the tension left his jaw. Dean saw a spark of delight in his eyes. “It’d account for the stone dust --”

“The snakeskin.” She shrugged.

“See, my theory,” Sam gestured with his hands as he spoke, “is that she picks the men she thinks will cheat, waits until the wife is gone --”

“Gives them prime opportunity --”

He faced her. “And when they take that opportunity --”

“She gives them a blast of her snake hair to turn them to stone --” She turned to face him, head tilting back to look up at him.

Dean watched them talk it out, exchanging an amused glance with Jo.

“Then just blasts them--”

“Leaving behind only dust --”

“And no trace of the man.”

“Maybe.” Gwen uncrossed her arms, hands moving onto her hips. She drummed her fingers. “But why leave the last guy? Why not blast him too? What’s different about that scene?”

“Something interrupted her before she could blast him to pieces? Not the wife, she left him a couple months ago.”

“You two want us to leave you alone,” Dean asked.

Both heads swiveled in his direction and both were equally confused. “Huh?”

Jo disentangled herself from Dean’s embrace. “A gorgon. Are you two serious?”

“You have a better idea?” Sam shrugged. “Because if you do, I’d love to hear it.”

“Gorgons are a myth, guys.”

“But so are most of the things we hunt,” Dean pointed out. He wasn’t sold on the gorgon idea yet. “If the pagan gods are all real, I’m thinking a gorgon can be too.”

“Sure,” she agreed with a nod, “but if I remember my mythology correctly, gorgons are immortal. How do we stop her?”

“Beheading,” Sam said. “That’ll work -- if the myth is right.”

“In a later myth, only one gorgon wasn’t immortal,” Gwen said. “ Medusa. She was just a woman who fooled around with the wrong god in the wrong place and got cursed by a goddess. Men fooling around are disappearing, possibly being turned to stone. So maybe --”

“Maybe we’re not dealing with the actual immortal gorgons,” Sam broke in, “but with a woman cursed like Medusa was because she was caught getting it on with the wrong guy.”

Gwen continued the idea. “Doomed to seduce married men --”

“Then turn them to stone and kill them.” Sam finished the theory.

Dean waved a finger at them. “You know what I find totally cute? How you two are finishing each other’s freakin’ thoughts.” Dean shrugged. “Just sayin’.” He licked his lips. “Quite a theory. How do we catch her and stop her?”

“We could put out some bait. We’d need a married man….” Sam looked at Gwen, who looked at Jo, who looked at Sam. Slowly, they all looked at him.

He raised a brow, interpreting the sudden silence and pointed stares. “Wait, you want to use _me_ as bait? What part of that’s a good idea?”

Sam nodded. “Well, you’re the married one. You’re the one she’d go for.”

“All of you suck. No.”

Two days and several interviews later, he was back in the other common denominator for all of the victims: they liked that restaurant they’d had breakfast at the other morning. All had been regulars and all had asked to sit in Molly’s section. Ahhh…the things they discovered upon further investigation.

“Sucks being bait,” he muttered to himself, then flagged the nearest server without looking to see who it was. “Hey, uh, sweetheart? Could I get a refill on the coffee please?”

“All by yourself tonight,” a flirtatious voice asked.

He glanced up. The woman from the other morning was beside him. Molly, a common thread among the missing men. He glanced at her nametag as if to refresh his memory and gave what he thought was the stupidest story. “Molly. Hi. Yeah, my wife’s being a real bitch tonight. Had to get out of the room for awhile.”

“That’s too bad. What’s she being that way over?” She leaned a hip against the table edge.

He continued, laying out the story Jo had come up with and Sam and Gwen had embellished, making it sound like he was prime material for some cheating behavior with a pretty young thing. She was sympathetic and it occurred to him that she could definitely be the one they were looking for. She was certainly the right size for the lingerie that had been found.

But if Sam and Gwen thought she was a real classical Greek Medusa gorgon, he thought they were wrong. He had no trouble meeting Molly’s gaze.

As he watched her covertly the next couple hours, she seemed to cool towards him, focusing instead on the middle aged man in the corner. Her glance returned again and again to the other woman in the restaurant -- the busty middle-aged hostess who looked like the younger woman’s mother.

Dean transferred his attention half onto her, studying her. Not bad for an older woman. Could possibly be wearing a wig.

He got out his phone and texted Sam.

_‘So what r the odds we have a cursed woman using her hot daughter to draw men into a trap?’_

“Explain.’

Dean tossed some bills onto the table and left, heading to the car where Sam waited. Getting in, he asked, “You think I can text my idea in under twenty minutes?”

“Just tell me why you think that.”

“Because. Snow White appears to be deferring to the Wicked Queen in there. Molly was all flirty with me until mama shook her head. Then she started focusing on the schmuck in the corner with the bad suit and comb over.”

“You think she’s the one we want, not the girl?”

“I think it’s a good bet.”

“You’re a flirt, Dean, and good at it. How did she know you wouldn’t cheat?”

“Maybe she has Spidey senses on it.”

Sam nodded. “That’d make sense. She’d need to know pretty quickly which potential victim was a sure thing, but why use the girl?” He peered through the window.

He looked at Sam. He couldn’t figure that one out? He’d spout off about Greek mythology and couldn’t think why an older woman would use a younger one to trap men? Really? Maybe his mind was half on something else, or rather someone else, like Gwen and the fact that he’d obviously not gotten anywhere with her. “Same reason you guys used me. Bait. I’m betting most men wouldn’t mind that little hottie all over them.” He glanced at the back seat. “Where’d Gwen and Jo go?”

“They’re keeping an eye on the back entrance.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“They’ve got guns.”

Actually, he was more concerned about civilians who might get in their way than about them, but it was good to know they’d taken guns with them. “I say we follow mama and daughter when they leave, see where they go.”

“Sure.” When the plan had been sent to Jo and Gwen and they settled down to wait, Sam cleared his throat. “You given anymore thought to my idea?”

Dean glanced towards the alley leading to the back of the restaurant. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think we’re ready to find a place and start doing the Campbell method.” Put like that, it sounded like a dirty sex practice. “I wouldn’t mind looking at a few places, thinking the idea over seriously, but Jo’s not ready for that.”

“Doesn’t have to be the Campbell method, Dean. I’ve got a few ideas on how to do things differently.”

“Drop it. It’s not happening anytime soon.”

Sam’s expression made it clear he wasn’t going to drop it. The subject was going to come up again and again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Data entry really wasn’t Ellen’s idea of a fun time. She spent more time sitting on her ass than she ever had in her life and she was afraid it was going to start showing. She’d taken care of the boxes that they’d first all looked through in between helping Bobby and getting settled in her small, one-bedroom rental house in town. Sam’s idea of spread sheets and word documents to begin with was a good one, but again, boring to put together. She even took files home to flag them with post-it notes. It was like having a real job without pay.

Ellen liked her little house. It was big enough for her needs and as for it being little…. It wasn’t that she wanted to discourage visitors, she simply wanted to discourage anyone from thinking they should stay the night -- meaning Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Jo. While she loved them all, she was serious about being herself again and she couldn’t do that with them hanging around all the time.

The storage unit had still been filled and she’d cleaned it out, taking a nice walk down memory lane as she unpacked back at the house. Ellen made the little house her new home.

She’d also consolidated various accounts she’d had and Jo likely hadn’t thought about. Her personal account. The Roadhouse business account, which was considerably lower than it had been due to property taxes having been taken out. She’d told the real estate agent the property was listed with to just lower it ridiculously and get it sold. It had helped that the agent had been an old friend of Bill’s who’d understood about why Ellen had been out of contact and told her he would’ve had it sold if she’d checked in now and then instead of going off grid for years at a time.

Then there’d been Jo’s college fund. The last of it anyway. She’d had it moved to a local bank and when Jo was at the house one day soon, she’d talk to her about it. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it should go to Jo now since it was obvious going back to college wasn’t going to happen.

She went into the bedroom upstairs at Bobby’s where the boxes were and opened the next one in line. A quick check of the file folders revealed none from the dates Sam and Gwen were looking for and she closed the lid, reaching for the next one. They’d claimed it wasn’t an urgent matter, yet Ellen knew Gwen was dying for real information on her family. Another glance showed the files in that one weren’t in the range either, but one folder she pulled out caught her eye.

On the folder was scrawled a message -- ‘Aaron: need the info on this ASAP. Can you get it?’.

Aaron? Thoughtful, Ellen opened the folder. Inside was a handwritten note on top of typed pages and yellowed newspaper clippings.

‘Neal: I put Mia on this for you. She may be new, but she has a good eye for details. I went through it and it looks solid to me. You’re good to go. Hope it helps. Aaron’

Aaron and Mia. Gwen’s possible birth parents. Ellen was certain they were. The picture they’d found was scarily like Gwen, or rather Gwen was scarily like Mia. She smiled a little to herself. She’d found out how the Campbell’s knew Aaron and Mia. Aaron was apparently a case spotter and researcher and it looked like Mia had gotten into it as well. Perhaps when she’d married him? Or were they married? Maybe Mia was her mother and Aaron wasn’t her father but an uncle. They’d all been making assumptions on who Aaron was.

Interesting. What had happened to them that left Gwen with people who’d tried to cover up her real identity? What could have been so terrible?

She rooted through the box a bit. It looked like there were several slim books mixed in as well. Should be good information. Ellen put the file on top of the box and carried the box downstairs. Even if that was all there was, Gwen would be happy to have a glimpse of Aaron’s handwriting, whoever he was to her in the end.

~~~~~~~~~~

The man in the bad suit with the comb-over was named Stan and screamed like a little girl when he saw snakes on his date’s head -- but he didn’t get turned into stone by the gorgon in the end, who was, actually, a gorgon. A real live gorgon, all Medusa when she went into her murdering phase.

Dean smiled a little to himself. Killing a gorgon was absolute coolest thing ever. How many people knew that myths were real…and got to kill them?

Sam clinked beer bottles with Dean. “Here’s to killing a gorgon.”

“Amen to that.”

Jo was taking a shower, attempting to wash off what she called ‘snake cooties’. She’d refused Dean’s help in washing, even though he assured her he was only thinking of her welfare. Over the sound of the tv and the water running, he could hear her still muttering.

Gwen was in the second room, also showering, but hers was to remove the gorgon blood she’d gotten all over her.

It had been quite a sight, Jo and Gwen wrestling the young gorgon just reaching maturity, while he and Sam wrestled the other one. The older woman had been the mature gorgon and Molly’s mentor, teaching her how to choose victims and work them. Fighting them had been touch and go for awhile, until it had been clear that in order to turn anyone to stone, the gorgons had to enthrall them first and these particular ones only enthralled men willing to cheat on their wives. Made things harder for the gorgons, but easier for Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Jo. Relatively, anyway. Gorgons had extra strength when pissed.

That missing man who’d been turned into a statue and not smashed to pieces? Not one of Molly’s approved targets, but since he was still a cheater, neither would release him from their magic. How they’d known Dean wouldn’t cheat? Something complicated with pheromones and intuition, which was sort of what Dean had thought to begin with.

Mentors. That word was popping up more than it ever had. First with Cas, then with this. It made sense in a way. Some of the monsters they hunted would need guidance on learning how to use their powers.

He wondered how that mentoring program in heaven was going. Were the angels behaving themselves any better than they ever had? Or was Castiel just as stressed as he’d been during the civil war?

The door to the outside opened, Gwen stepping in. Her hair was wet, and she snagged a beer from the cooler before joining them at the table. “Jo’s still in there?”

“She’s still a little freaked out by the snakes,” Sam explained.

“Understandable, since they were trying to bite her.”

The bathroom door opened. Steam rolled out. “I feel better.” Jo joined them, dressed in her pajamas. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Snakes are gross.”

They clinked beer bottles in agreement.

“Postmortem,” Gwen asked in a hopeful tone.

“Well, we can add a bunch of gorgon info to the database when we get back to South Dakota,” Dean suggested, tugging Jo down on his lap.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. We kicked gorgon _ass_.”

“Ass-kickery definitely commenced,” Gwen agreed with a nod.

“I’ve seen some ugly in my time, but those two with their human disguises dropped take the cake,” Dean went on, relinquishing his beer so Jo could have a drink.

“At least we didn’t have to use a mirror to avoid their eyes and kill them like in the myth.” Gwen tucked her hair behind her ears.

“I’ll drink to that.” Sam raised his bottle and they clinked them again.

Jo took a drink, then handed the bottle back to Dean so he could drink. “Bobby’s going to be thrilled. He was speculating awhile back about how much of myths are embellished stories of real beings -- seeing as how you’ve proven a few myths to be real.”

Dean wrapped an arm around her. “I must have missed that discussion.”

“You were all still asleep. He and mom were looking at one of the Campbell files and arguing. I think they’d been up all night.”

Slowly, the conversation took a turn towards their work arrangement and an acknowledgement of their dissatisfaction in it. Dean almost tensed when he realized Sam was leading them into the discussion he didn’t really want to have. While he really did want to have a place with Jo, his mind returned occasionally to the houses with Lisa and how that had been.

Bland. Tepid. Boring.

What if he and Jo slid into that routine?

“You know,” Gwen reached into the cooler and brought fresh beers to all of them, “I think you two are laboring under a misapprehension regarding what a home base entails.”

Jo got up and reached for the empty bottles. “Not this again.”

Gwen grasped Jo’s forearm. “It can wait, Jo, but this can’t. Sit. Please.”

With a roll of her eyes, Jo sat, crossing her legs and arms. “I’m sitting.”

“You’re both acting like setting up a home base means that you’ll never travel on jobs ever again.”

“It’s the farthest thing from the truth, really.” Sam took up the conversation, tapping the bottom of his bottle on the table a few times. “A home base is a place to rest where we can relax, like at Bobby’s, only if we make on for ourselves, it’s our rules, our methods, the kind of place we need. It’ll give us a place to organize before we head out.”

“It won’t be a Campbell compound. That’s not who you are. Find a location you know, you like, and have a good relationship with, like Sioux Falls.”

“Search for a property to fit our needs. Out of town, basement, X number of bedrooms….” Sam drained his almost empty bottle and reached for the fresh one. “None of us are twenty anymore and Dean, you’ve got a wife now. Don’t you want to see her more often?”

“Of course.” He’d gone over this with Jo already. She wanted to be out hunting and traveling.

“I’m not ready to play house.” Jo’s attitude towards the subject was bordering on outright hostile.

Frustration crossed Sam’s face. “No one’s asking you to.” It was the harshest tone Dean had ever heard him use with Jo. “Setting up a home base doesn’t mean playing house. It’s not about decorating and making a happy little home.”

Dean flinched.

“No one is suggesting you become Suzie Homemaker with an apron around your waist staying at the base while the big strong men go out and save the world from monsters. Geez. The monsters need saving from you.” His exasperated gaze slid to Gwen, and Dean saw her arm move, like she was placing a calming hand on his leg.

“If you two won’t take the initiative, then we will. I thought you might want to take lead on this, but I don’t mind getting it going.”

“Wait a minute.” Dean leaned over, crossing his arms and resting them on the table. “You’ve really been discussing this? You’ve got a plan of action already thought out?” He’d thought it was still a vague idea in Sam’s mind, not one fully formed and planned.

Sam nodded. “For awhile now. Gwen and I’ve talked about what worked for the Campbell’s and for others and what didn’t and how we can make the idea ours. I really think it’s the way to go, Dean, and I think Sioux Falls is the right place. We’d have both Bobby and Ellen close, but with our own lives. Ellen’s made it pretty clear she’s finally cut the apron strings to Jo and I doubt Bobby’d be too upset if we only come to visit not to camp out for days at a time. We have a friend in law enforcement -- always nice since we’re usually on the wrong side of that.” He shrugged. “Let’s face it, neither of you is happy with how things are now. Meeting up every couple weeks, working cold or at least very cool cases, not seeing each other to really develop that married bond. You’ve been pissy and we’re tired of it.”

“You’re giving us an ultimatum,” Jo asked.

“Calling it as I see it.”

“You’ll still travel, Jo.” Gwen watched her a minute before continuing. “You’ll have that freedom, but you’ll also have the freedom to stay home if you want and not go out on a job. You can relax in a way you can’t on the road 24-7 and frankly, we’ve tried this your way and Dean’s for months now. Sam and I went along with it. Don’t you think it’s fair that you try it our way since yours is making you unhappy?”

Jo pursed her lips, gaze raising to the ceiling, and when she spoke it was with fierce determination. “I’ll try it if Dean will -- but I won’t like looking at properties and I’m not picking up or cooking for anyone but myself and Dean.”

“That’s fair,” Sam said, looking now at Dean.

There were advantages that Dean had already thought of and intellectually, he knew it’d be different than living with Lisa. Emotionally, however….

“Dean,” Gwen prompted with raised brows.

He crossed his arms and studied all of them one by one. “We make whatever property we get all of ours, not one or the other. We all decide, we all agree. Business deal. No agreement, we don’t do it. We all look at properties, no sponging it off on any one person, and once we get a place, bedrooms are private domain, rest is common.”

“I can live with that.” Gwen smiled.

Sam nodded.

“Jo?” He turned his attention to her.

She sighed. “I already said okay. Don’t push me.”

The conversation over, Dean had the odd sense that though they’d all agreed, he’d been the one to make the decision for them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Abigael was almost the perfect pupil, Castiel reflected. Her only downside was asking the same question different ways until she was sure he’d given her a full and straight answer. It was wearying in a way.

“Castiel?”

“Yes?”

She ran a finger along the edge of her Styrofoam cup. They were sitting on a park bench together. She’d become fond of cinnamon lattes and liked to have one whenever they sat and talked. A human would burn her mouth if she tried to drink it as hot as Abigael drank it. “There are a couple things I’m still unclear on in regards to etiquette and humans.”

“Go on.”

“Well….’ She glanced at him and back at her cup. “You’ve said repeatedly not to listen in on their thoughts and yet you still do it. I noticed you did that to Sam in Las Vegas.”

He should’ve known she’d notice that -- as intently as she’d been studying him. “Sam and Dean both have this _face_ they make when they want to speak to me alone. I’ve learned to recognize it and when you know them like I do, sometimes it’s good sense to listen a moment.”

“Oh. You also listen for them to call for you, yet we’re not supposed to be slaves to humanity.”

“The relationship I have with them is a personal one, going beyond the original duty. They’re friends. Friends come when called.”

She smiled, a gentle upwards quirk of the corners of her mouth. “You’re like a guard over them.”

“Sometimes I am. As I’ve attempted to tell Uzziel, dealing with humans isn’t a simple task that a few classes can aid. It’s an ongoing process of learning. I believe some of us are better equipped than others to handle personal, close interactions.”

“How so?”

“Those of us on earth need to remain apart from humans. We can’t forget our angelic identity. Some of us don’t have the great temptation to fall to enjoy human things. It’s those of us that don’t have the temptation or can control ourselves when confronted by it that should be on earth.”

“Maybe that’s how Balthazar can be of use. He seems to have the knack of seeing that in us.”

He bent over, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands together. Why was he surprised that she’d heard about that? “Does everyone know about that conversation I had with him?”

“I don’t believe so.” She drained the cup and tossed it into the trashcan. “We librarians have more information at our fingertips than most. For example, we were among the first to take notice of you when you began to display human traits that we weren’t supposed to have. We pay attention because, for many of us, it’s our job to keep records. The word librarian is just a human understanding of what we do. It’s actually so much more. We’re the ones with our ears to the pulse of heaven and earth, Castiel.”

Castiel studied her. She still looked naïve and innocent to him, yet nearly every time she opened her mouth she disabused him of the notion that she hadn’t changed since she’d been with him. She’d lost quite a bit of that almost shy attitude. “Do you like being in the library?”

“It’s not a matter of liking or disliking. I was placed there by God, my skills were given to me by Him. I made the most --”

“Of what you were given.”

Abigael nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if I should return there. It was where I was initially placed after all. I’m good at that job.”

“I’m not where I was initially placed,” he pointed out. “Tell me…. If you were to have any assignment on earth, what sort of job would you choose?”

“Is this from a teacher standpoint or a friendly one?”

“Both, but primarily friendly. I’m curious.”

She smiled outright and turned her attention to the park. “Something that enables me to travel freely here, to study them and interact with them firsthand. I want to be a protector of the innocent, a guiding hand when advice is needed, and a friend to those who least expect aid.”

“That’s quite an ideal.”

“I know.” Her smile faded. “You asked about what I’d choose. My dream job. That’s it. I know I’ll take whatever you decide I can handle and I’ll do my best with it.” She sighed. “I feel for Uzziel, you know. He switched sides, made up his mind to embrace humanity, and then found he couldn’t be down here without temptation overwhelming him. I find it sad that he can’t have what he now wishes to have.”

“That’s spread as well?” He’d been trying to think of how to ease that temptation and had no ideas. Maybe Uzziel simply wasn’t meant to be on earth for more than a minute here and there.

“The angelic news network works fast,” she replied in a dry tone.

“Abigael,…” He hesitated a moment. He wanted to discuss something with her, since she did claim librarians knew things. “Have you noticed anything strange about some of our brothers and sisters lately?”

She crossed her legs and swung one foot. “Aside from the plotting Balthazar has been doing to usurp Uzziel, the mood swings the ones who left and returned have been having and the general air of giddiness remaining about Raphael being gone for good? Strange like that or something really bizarre?”

He smiled. “When you put it like that…. I suppose heaven is a strange place these days.”

“To be honest, the balance in heaven is still off. We’ve yet to recover from the war and from Raphael’s death, not to mention the changes you and Uzziel made have some of us feeling lost. No one knows what’s going on, Castiel, and the confusion isn’t good. Can I be candid with you?”

“Please.”

She turned on the bench, arm resting on the back of it. “Do you remember when Michael was in charge? How he oversaw everything and we knew what our jobs were? We don’t have that leadership and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s…different now. We’re moving forward, reorganizing, and winning the war sort of thrust you up there in charge where Michael was. While I’m glad to have the chance to learn from you, I think Uzziel’s initial idea of you being visible was a good one. Look at how much you both accomplished those months. When you were looking in on the departments, it made them feel like there was leadership among the chaos of reorg. Ships need a captain and you’re it. You need to be one.”

“I don’t want that role.” He knew everyone was getting tired of hearing it from him.

“So delegate most of it to Uzziel. Give _him_ that task, but you tell him what departments to see when. You make the schedule. Don’t let him make you a schedule to follow. You’re the boss. Pick the areas you prefer to handle personally and let him whip the rest into shape. He has the skills and it’s what he knows best from handling troops. He enjoys that work, whether he admits it or not. He’ll have Jael to assist him and you can rest well knowing the job is being done well. Besides, it’ll keep him so busy he won’t have time to pine for Ellen Harvelle and human life.”

“He’s handling the AMP,” he pointed out.

“Maybe you could do it. Or delegate someone. Your methods are so different from Michael’s it’s alien territory for us. A lot of us fear change even now.”

She gave him a lot to think about as she continued to talk, half formed ideas that showed she’d been paying attention to everything around her and not just him. Maybe, he’d begin to take her advice and see where that led. Truth be told, he felt like he was lost as well, uncertain what to do and not having a clear purpose. The AMP was one thing, but it didn’t feel right yet. It needed to be in line with heaven’s purpose, but how to do that? He liked spending time teaching Abigael and saw the necessity of that process for others, yet there was much to be done.

Who could he talk to about the real pressures he was feeling? Who would understand it all and be able to give him advice and guidance, because right now? He needed both.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the town and hospital in MN.

By the time 2013 came, Ellen had tired of that task she’d assigned for herself. While the information was useful and bountiful, even fascinating at times, she could understand why previous attempts at this had stalled. It was boring putting it all in the computer, though she supposed it’d be more fun once she began adding cross-reference information and such.

She’d given Gwen a few things she’d found already, mostly diaries like the one Sam had found, and the folder with Aaron’s note in it. Gwen was almost giddy with each piece of information, excitedly sharing it all with Sam first, then with Jo and Dean. It was nice to see something a bit deeper between Gwen and Sam forming and Sam even seemed to be losing some of that reserve he had. He was quicker to smile and laugh and it seemed to Ellen that the shadow of pain in his eyes was beginning to lighten. In her opinion, it’d be a good day when both those boys lost that shadow completely. They’d both been through far too much in their young lives.

She surveyed the boxes and decided to take one of the heavier ones that was practically waterproof due to the many layers of tape holding it closed. A bleeding gash and two broken nails later, and Ellen realized she’d stumbled onto a jackpot. She began to take items out, laying them carefully around her in a semi-circle. A few envelopes of pictures and a large manila envelope. A pretty pink child’s jacket, baby shoes and more. The things parents saved from their child’s first years.

Ellen opened the manila envelope. It was labeled ‘GC 1-10’. Inside were papers and right on top was the very thing Gwen had been hoping they’d find. Her birth certificate, clipped to another birth certificate.

Gwen Alyssa Carys had been born to Aaron Jeffrey Carys and Mia Alexandra Carys on June 2, 1981 at exactly five in the morning at Mercy Hospital in Princeville, Minnesota.

So their assumption was right. Aaron was her father, Mia her mother, and they were married.

The certificate clipped to it was a fake and a very good one. Ellen had seen enough fakes to recognize the career hunter’s attention to detail. The original document had been altered to reflect Neal and Patricia Campbell as the parents and the time of birth, location, and hour were different. It was a good fake. Most people would never know the difference and Ellen knew the location would have been carefully picked. There would have been a tragic fire or something so original documents couldn’t be found for that year and month, at least not without considerable difficulty.

She found immunization records, medical and dental records, and all those things that were necessary when raising a child. There were report cards that mentioned what a bright, intelligent, and imaginative child Gwen was and pictures drawn by Gwen that were reminiscent of the ones Jo had once given to Ellen and Bill: stick drawings with the phrases ‘I love mommy’ and ‘I love daddy’ with backdrops that belonged in nightmares. Nowadays, schools would call child services and recommend extensive counseling for the child, but back then, it only meant the child had a good imagination.

The items that had been stashed away told Ellen that Patricia and Neal had loved Gwen very much and any secrets they’d kept from her had likely been an attempt to protect her. The pictures, all neatly labeled, were the most telling.

Pretty blond Patricia smiling tenderly as she fed Gwen from a bottle. Neal grinning while holding toddler Gwen in his arms. That same toddler on a tricycle with her tongue sticking out as she concentrated. Both Neal and Patricia with Gwen before a succession of birthday cakes. The expression in their eyes was love and pride and Ellen thumbed through the pictures, half tempted to get supplies and make them into an album for Gwen.

There were also pictures of Gwen with other children and a succession of pictures of her and Christian that told Ellen that perhaps Christian had had a soft spot for Gwen. They were standing together in them, Gwen holding a bow in her hands. She appeared to be right at ten years of age. It looked like Christian had been correcting her hold on the bow, his expression one of pleasure. In one picture his eyes seemed to twinkle even. Had Gwen listened to his instructions? Had she given back teasing words as well as he’d tossed them at her? Whatever the scene, he’d been proud of her then and very different from the man Dean and Sam had known and Gwen had told her about.

Ellen smiled as she went through the pictures. She’d found Gwen’s first ten years, all catalogued. How nice it’d be if somewhere here was the information on her parents. They had names now, and a basic location. It was a place to start.

She snapped a picture of the birth certificate and emailed it to Gwen. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Throughout Gwen’s childhood, there’d been things she hadn’t understood, rules she’d had to follow that it seemed like no one else did. She had to be with someone else at all times when out of the compound -- family if possible. Patricia grew worried if Gwen was by herself. She could only go on the easy hunts and jobs to learn and never anything that might mean her death. She needed to train harder and longer than anyone else. 

A lot had been expected from her. Patricia had tried to raise her as an ‘everywoman’ -- girly but not too girly, a tomboy, but not too much so, good at every aspect of hunting, and very aware of those things that were out there. She’d wanted Gwen capable of protecting herself against anything that could come after her, desperate at times for her to learn, pushing her in almost manic bursts.

At the time, she’d thought it was just her mother being unfair. Now, she was grateful for those times Patricia had pushed her.

As she read through her mother’s diaries, Gwen began to remember things that had been consigned to the attic of memory and forgotten.

For a full month after her birthday, until July 2 was over, she’d been forbidden to leave the compound at all and especially not on July 2. She was supposed to help Patricia with the summer cleaning and other chores. Funny how that rule had never tipped her off that something larger was happening around her. She’d merely thought they were being arbitrary and unfair. When she was twelve, she’d rebelled, snuck out with Christian’s help, then when she’d gotten in trouble, Christian had abandoned her, denying he’d helped her. He’d told her later that he was sorry, that he’d known she could handle the heat by herself. Her mother had behaved as though Gwen had personally betrayed her and stabbed her in the heart. How could Gwen do that? How could she be so cruel as to worry her poor mother that way? They’d thought she’d been abducted by a _demon_ ….

The guilt they’d laid on her over that! She’d sworn she’d never do it again just to make it stop.

After Patricia’s death, all of those rules had lifted, as though her father had suddenly given up. Maybe he had. He’d stopped talking about witches and demons and it hadn’t been until after his death that the Campbell clan had returned to hunting witches and demons knowingly. Sure they’d taken care of a few they hadn’t realized were either until most of the way through the job, yet during the last years of Neal’s life, he’d wanted the focus elsewhere.

She thought about her mother’s final days.

Gwen remembered Patricia telling her to always check for hex bags, because otherwise you’d never know there was a witch in your midst until it was too late. She’d looked like she was going to say more then, her thin bony fingers held in Gwen’s hand and her cancer riddled body attempting to move closer and failing because of the tubes and cords anchoring her to the hospital bed. Her bloodless lips had parted, an urgent light in her eyes, but then Neal had come in and Gwen’s mother seemed to close in on herself.

That had been the last conversation she’d had with her mother. Patricia had died that night and Gwen had been freed from the rules that had restricted her.

Setting the diary aside, she drew her legs up and clasped her arms around them. She was crying but didn’t attempt to stem the flood of tears. Sam had been right about the emotional aspect of reading the diaries, just not in regards to that first one. It was this one, the last one Patricia had written that drew long forgotten grief and pain from her.

The door to the small cabin opened, Sam coming in. Jo and Dean were out seeing a horror movie that, in Gwen’s opinion, looked too much like the last job they’d all worked together. It had Tara Benchley in it though, and both Jo and Dean were fans of hers. Sam had told Gwen they’d met Tara once and worked a job on the set of Hell Hazers II: The Reckoning. He’d told her the entire story over dinner, clearing up for her how a Hollywood writer had managed to get any details right. They usually messed up badly.

He stomped his boots free of snow and set the bags he was carrying down before removing his coat. “Man, is it cold out there! Cars in the ditch everywhere. The place on the edge of town was having a special….” He studied her, slowly hanging his coat up on the hooks beside the door. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Uh-oh.” Sam set the food in the fridge and crossed to her, joining her on the couch and sitting close. An arm slid along the couch behind her shoulders, his other arm encircling her legs, hand resting on her thigh -- a sort of hug. The pleasant scent of his aftershave teased at her nostrils. “Talk to me.”

The difference between Sam with a soul and Sam without was never more pronounced than in moments like this. He really was a gentle caring man, genuinely concerned about how others felt.

“I think my mother was going to tell me I was adopted before she died and I think she was going to tell me all of it. She had this look in her eyes….”

“What happened?” His hand chafed her leg in slow strokes.

She leaned in towards the warmth of his body. “I told you she died of cancer?”

Sam nodded. His hair slipped down over his brow. “I remember.”

“Well, it was sudden and aggressive and it about tore my dad apart emotionally. See, they’d gone out on a job, leaving the rest of us back at the compound, and she was fine. Healthy. When they returned a week later, she was sick. The others, they didn’t know how to act around her. Cancer, you know? The word still gets people today. I think the hospital may have freaked them out though. We tend to avoid those as much as possible. I almost lived at the hospital those weeks. Lost my first real boyfriend because he thought going out with him was more important than my mom dying.”

“Jerk,” he said softly, hand curving on her leg and arm squeezing, drawing her closer.

“Oh, he was,” she agreed. “Big jerk. He was what mom called a bad boy and she hated him on sight. Anyway, the night she died, Christian and Arlene took dad down to get a coffee, leaving me alone with mom. That was when she made me promise to always look for hex bags. She had witches on the brain a lot those last days, though I guess she’d had them in her mind most of my life. Hated witches. Called them skeevy liars.”

“Dean agrees with her. He’s used some strong language to describe them.”

“I can imagine.” Gwen tucked her hair behind her ears. “She told me that you never knew there was a witch among you until it was too late. So many things go through my head now about that. Was she talking about my birth parents? Was a witch the reason they raised me? Maybe someone they didn’t know was a witch did something to my birth parents? Or maybe…she was referring to her sickness. Maybe the cancer wasn’t a natural switch that turned on in her body. Maybe it was a curse. Was there a hex bag hidden among her things when they got back from that trip and we never found it? Why say that specifically? Why make me promise that and say that? What was she going to tell me that she didn’t when my dad came back in?”

It could have been the drugs in Patricia’s system, Gwen knew that. Patricia had been drugged to the gills for the pain those days, but Gwen knew, she just _knew_ , that whatever she’d wanted to tell Gwen was important.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, an understanding kind expression in his eyes. Here was comfort if she wanted it. He’d hold her and it’d be okay to feel vulnerable. She could let her guard down completely.

Gwen wanted that; to let herself wallow a bit in vulnerability, and right then, she wanted him to make her forget the pain of remembering and make it all periphery, if only for a few hours. In a quick movement, she leaned closer, pressing her lips to his, tasting a hint of coffee. He seemed surprised, but didn’t pull away, letting her keep control of the moment, that very thing she needed.

She threaded her fingers through his hair. It was soft and silky to touch. “I want you,” she murmured. “Now.” She shook her head. “And I don’t want the gentleman.”

Sam didn’t say anything, he merely nodded and stood, helping her to her feet and over to the bed. He spread his arms as if to say ‘whatever you want, however you want’.

She took him up on that silent offer.

Their first coming together was passionate and fast, over before Gwen registered it had happened. The second time was slow, yet no less intense, Gwen exploring him and guiding his hands on her. He let her set the pace, being so sweet in giving her what she wanted and needed that her tears returned in a quieter moment. Sam kissed those tears away and held her as they both fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam woke to the sounds of Gwen moving about the cabin and the smell of reheated food. He opened his eyes and sat up, watching Gwen dish up two paper plates with the food. She was wearing his shirt, the tails of it long on her thighs, the sleeves rolled up. He liked how the hem brushed her legs.

“You want to sit at the table or eat in bed,” she asked, picking up the plates and turning to face him. She’d only buttoned two buttons on the shirt, a decision that gave him enticing glimpses of bare skin as she took a couple steps forward. He knew just how soft her skin felt beneath his hands, how warm her body was, and how well she’d fit with him.

“Table.” It was still night. A glance at his watch showed that they’d slept for a little over five hours.

“Good choice. Come and get it.”

He pulled the sheet free from the bed and wrapped it around him rather than get dressed, then joined her. As he added sweet and sour sauce to an egg roll, he thought about how between him and Dean, Dean had always seemed the impatient one, yet he’d waited months for Jo. Longer if Sam counted the time from when they’d first met. Sam however, had folded quickly beneath the weight of anticipation and longing for Gwen. He hoped he’d made the right decision.

Slow had it’s advantages and so did impatience. He no longer had to wonder if she’d be wild in bed or if she’d show a softer side (yes to both). Nor did he need to guess in fantasies as to how she’d kiss and touch him. The initial wondering was over and he could begin settling in to that sort of intimacy lovers shared.

“Five for your thoughts,” Gwen said, glancing at him while she opened a packet of hot mustard.

“A five?”

“Inflation.”

“No kidding.” He reached for the sweet and sour packets. “I was just thinking how on the outside Dean looks impatient, but he has such patience when he needs it. Like with Jo. Man, I thought he was nuts for not pushing Jo’s boundaries a little. I don’t mean pushing her before she was ready, just --”

“Seeing if she’d fold quicker?”

“Exactly. Me though, I’m the opposite. I look patient, but I can get in the ‘now, now’ mindset easily.”

“I kind of liked that mindset earlier.” Her glance was flirtatious. “Now isn’t always a bad thing. I don’t think you’re that cut and dried, Sam. You’re both patient and impatient about different things, different priorities. You’re different people. So what if you’re opposite on some things? You complement each other as a whole. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Jo calls it a special bond and she’s right. It is special.” Her brows rose, a teasing grin forming on her lips. “You’re soul mates.”

“Soul mates.” He laughed and cut a piece of the beef.

“Yup. Most people think it refers only to a romantic couple, but I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I don’t think it matters. I think a person’s soul mate can totally be his own brother. It doesn’t mean anything sexual. I think the ‘mate’ part of the word confuses people. It just means your souls are in perfect accord, opposite sides of one coin and that sort of thing.”

“You don’t think Jo and Dean are soul mates?”

“I think they’re as close as they _can_ be. She is his wife after all, but he already has his soul mate: you. You have yours: him.”

“What does Jo think?”

“She gave me the idea and I think she’s right.”

He propped a foot on the chair across from him. “Why is it we always have these sort of conversations at two-thirty in the morning?”

“It’s how we’re wired.” She ate a few bites, then leaned over and flipped open the lid of his laptop, booting it up. “I want to show you something.”

“You know when Dean says those words like that he ends up freezing the screen with porn.”

Gwen snickered. “I’m hardly going to show you porn, Sam…unless you want me to?”

“Pass.”

She brought up the web browser and signed in to email. “Ellen sent me an email earlier. I was going to share it then, but I…. I don’t know why I didn’t to be honest.” She downloaded a picture of a document. “Take a look.” She moved the laptop to set between them.

It was a birth certificate.

“She found it.” He read the information. “Gwen Alyssa Carys. Doesn’t quite trip off the tongue like Gwen Campbell.”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “We have information to dig with now. Actual information that could lead to my birth family’s past.”

And possibly to the reason why the Campbell’s had tried to hide it from her. This was good news, Sam knew that, yet inside him was a tiny sliver of misgiving. The Campbell’s had had many reasons for hiding things, some of them not very good ones. What if their reasons for hiding this had been one of the good ones and digging at it busted open something very bad?

Whatever happened, this time he was going to protect the woman he cared about. This time he’d anticipate trouble and this time, no one was going to hurt her without getting through him first.

~~~~~~~~~

Jo wasn’t about to admit to anyone that she liked looking at properties and assessing them with an eye towards their collective needs. Nor would she admit that she was starting to feel a little excited about it. Instead, she pushed all of them to be out working cases as much as possible instead of being in Sioux Falls.

It wasn’t that she thought a home base was a bad idea. It wasn’t. It was a very good idea and made perfect sense. She knew many hunters who had one. The lifestyle she, Gwen, Sam, and Dean had wasn’t the usual method. Most hunters Jo had known had had some sort of home that wasn’t their car. Jo’s only problem with it was the fear that she’d be pushed into the traditional female role of keeping the home fire burning. She wasn’t ready to settle down into that role. Maybe she never would be.

And maybe Sam and Gwen were right. Maybe it wouldn’t be like that. With luck, they could create the sort of vibe Bobby’s place had.

Bobby and Ellen supported the decision, as long as it meant their base was open whenever Ellen and Bobby wanted to visit. In fact, both had looked for properties for them, together and separately. Jo wondered what the realtors of Sioux Falls thought.

She sighed and reached for the folder Gwen had started a few days earlier, intending on starting the case wall so they could get to work seriously. She opened the folder. Right on top of the clippings and slips of paper, was a picture of a gut wound. A nasty, ugly wound, intestines spilling from the opening. It looked like there were maggots as well.

Her stomach lurched, an insistent rolling sensation that made her fairly certain within ten seconds that lunch was on it’s way back up. Jo made a dash into the bathroom and was still there, riding a teetering seesaw of nausea that never fully ended in throwing up, when Gwen returned with dinner. The smell of the food made the queasiness worse and Jo moaned, hoping she’d either throw up already or it’d go away.

“So….” Gwen stepped into the bathroom doorway, watching her a minute. “You don’t want dinner then?”

“It was all of a sudden.” She took several slow deep breaths, swallowed hard, and the urge was gone as quickly as it had manifested. Slowly, Jo sat back, her back against the wall. “I think I’m okay. I think I can eat,” she said, getting up.

Gwen looked at her like she was nuts and stepped back into the room. “Sure it’s a good idea?”

Jo followed her. “I feel okay now.”

“Right.” Gwen’s glance slid down her, paused a second on her stomach, and then turned to the food. “Your call.”

She did feel fine. Even the picture that appeared to have been the catalyst didn’t bother her again and Jo forgot the strange incident until it happened again a few days later. Dinnertime again and she seemed to have developed an aversion to blood and gore, which made their current job a test of mind over matter: Jo’s will that she not throw up and her body’s insistence that she was going to.

“I’ve got the flu,” she told Gwen, who nodded and replied ‘sure’, but didn’t point out that she didn’t have flu symptoms.

Her ‘flu’ ended up lasting six weeks and by that point, Jo was fairly certain it wasn’t the flu. Nor was it food poisoning, or the other excuses she tried out.

She put forth her best efforts to disguise how wretched she felt the first time they met up with Dean and Sam, yet by the second, it was impossible. The sight of blood and gore made her feel faint and the smell of garlic and beer, either singly or together, made her want to puke. There was no hiding that from them, especially with beer being a drink of preference and pizza a favorite food.

Jo crawled back onto the bed and laid her head on Dean’s chest. He wrapped an arm around her, hand stroking her back. “I think it’s food poisoning,” she said, curling up against him. She felt shaky and feverish this time. Maybe it really was food poisoning, but she didn’t think so.

He closed the magazine he was looking at, set it aside, and pressed a hand to her forehead, then cheek, and finally neck. “You do feel warm. Got a thermometer in your bag?”

“It’s out in the first aid kit.”

“Which is in the car, Gwen has the keys, and she’s out with Sam checking out the haunting rumor.”

“Yeah.” They’d gone to the site not because it was haunted but because it was supposed to be according to rumor and only rumor. There wasn’t any hard evidence, it was simply something to do instead of seeing a movie they’d already seen. A busman’s holiday.

“Okay. If I leave you to go across the street to Walgreen’s, are you going to be okay?”

“Sure.” She lay back so he could get up and promptly rolled onto her side when her stomach lurched. “Oh…..”

He came around the bed and crouched down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

The entire night was more of the same and as soon as Dean headed out for breakfast, Jo weighed the pros and cons of calling Castiel. She’d been waiting with a sinking feeling these weeks for her period to arrive, giving a lame excuse to Gwen about it. She wasn’t sure why she’d even said anything to begin with. She’d prayed her excuse was true until the nausea hit full force and she had to admit, at least to herself, that the thing she and Dean both feared would happen had happened.

She was pregnant.

“Castiel,” she whispered, feeling a bit foolish for even attempting to call for him. Jo bit her lip a moment and tried again, this time in a normal voice. “Castiel, hey, it’s Jo. Could you come down and see me for a minute? If you have the time I mean. Don’t come down if you’re busy, I just --”

“Jo. What do you need?”

She turned. He didn’t look angry, merely curious. “You came.”

“You asked me to.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to answer me.”

“Why not? You’re Dean’s wife and a friend.”

“Thank you.”

His head inclined in a nod. “You have a matter to discuss with me?”

Jo picked up the paper sack she had ready and took a deep breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

The call from Jo came in while Castiel was searching heaven for Uzziel. He had a matter to discuss with him and neither he nor Jael could find him. Castiel didn’t think Uzziel had left heaven. Uzziel had made the decision to stay away from his temptation, balking only a little at the list Castiel had handed him -- a scene reminiscent of one earlier where Uzziel had given Cas a list to follow. Jael was frantic however. He feared the worst. Castiel was trying for a more positive attitude this time and after he’d found Uzziel, he had to meet Joshua in the garden.

“Castiel, I don’t ever ask you for anything --”

“Ask. If I can help, I will.” He meant it.

She looked away and held out a small paper sack. “Would you please see if there’s someone who can tell if these are defective?”

Curious, Castiel opened the sack. Inside were pink oval packets and smaller plastic squares. “Your birth control methods.”

“Yeah. We, uh, we stopped using the condoms months ago, so it’s really just the pills I want to know about.”

He studied her, noting a slight change in her appearance. There was an inner radiance to her that had not previously been present. “Jo, are you with child?”

She swallowed hard, a shadow of fear in her eyes. “Would you look into those please?”

Perhaps Ariel or Jael would know of someone. Cas rolled the top of the bag back down. “How urgent is this matter?”

“I can wait a week or two at most and then I have to…. I have to…. Dean…. Not long.”

She was frightened deeply by this event, in a near panic even. He wanted to reassure her and didn’t know how. “I’ll return as quickly as I can,” he promised.

Taking the bag to heaven, he approached Ariel first, who announced that she could look at the pills for him. She chatted as she worked, running some sort of test with beakers and liquids that he wasn’t certain was really needed. Finally, she dumped it all back in the bag.

“Whoever she is she’s been taking sugar pills and all of those condoms have holes poked in them. The pills aren’t even real birth control pills. They’re candy altered to look like them. Fruit flavored Mentos I think, though I could be wrong. Might be Skittles instead.”

“Candy?” He felt a tiny chill on his spine. Who did he know, or rather what, that liked candy? Tricksters. Dean and Jo had recently tangled with one.

“And a good copy.” She took one packet back out. “I’m assuming it’s a bad and tasteless human practical joke. Look at the company name.”

On the foil ring holding the pills in place was small writing. Trxter Enterprises.

Castiel closed his eyes a moment. So the Trickster’s agenda had gone beyond the first few days. He’d replaced the birth control pills and poked holes in the condoms, making it fairly certain that Jo would become pregnant.

He’d claimed to be doing a favor for someone higher up, but who? God? Or someone on the other side of things? The Trickster had proven himself fairly neutral, never helping either side more than the others, thus ticking off each side equally. But who was he serving in the trick? And to what purpose?

With a nod, he thanked her, put the packet back in the bag and returned to Jo. She was pacing, arms about herself. “Jo.”

She looked up. “That was quick. What’s the verdict?”

“They were all defective.”

She gasped, hand covering her mouth. Tears appeared, sobs shaking her body. “I can’t do this,” she said between sobs.

Cas was at a loss as to what to do. He put the bag on the dresser. What did one do when confronted with a crying woman? What would Dean or Sam do? He raced to think of some action to help her and stepped forward, putting his arms awkwardly about her, pressing her head to his chest, patting her back. She clutched at him, fingers twisting in the fabric of his coat. “I believe you’ll be a good mother.”

The words only made her cry harder. Why? What had he said wrong? It was the truth. He honestly did believe she would be a good mother to whatever children she had.

“I’m not ready for this!”

He opened his mouth to reply and thought that perhaps the best action was not to say anything.

“I don’t want to be knocked up!”

Castiel let Jo soak the front of his shirt with her tears and when she finally drew back, he refrained from saying anything then as well.

Jo sniffled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Are you able to be alone? If not, I’ll stay until Dean returns.”

“I’ll be okay. Thank you, Castiel.”

With a nod, he left her.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dean was in the restaurant already, Sam’s laptop on the table, a notepad and pencil to one side and a plate of sausage, eggs, and biscuits and gravy half eaten in front of him. He was in deep concentration on whatever was on the computer screen.

As Gwen and Sam approached, Gwen realized he wasn’t working on a case. He was looking at a medical site.

“WebMedDoc,” Sam asked, sliding into the booth across from Dean. “What’s up?”

“Where’s Jo?” Gwen followed Sam into the booth. She could guess where Jo was. The same place she’d been about every morning for breakfast for three weeks now and where she’d been at dinnertime for six weeks: in the bathroom with dry heaves claiming she had either the flu or food poisoning. Gwen thought differently. She also thought Jo knew what was ‘wrong’. She was just trying to deny it until she could figure out how to tell Dean in a way that wouldn’t freak him out.

Dean tapped a button, closed the lid on the laptop and looked over at them. “Jo thought she had food poisoning last night, but she’s still feeling off this morning. Think she might have the flu. You feeling okay, Gwen?”

“Never better. Not even a sniffle.”

“Huh. Well, I’m going to buy her some sick food. Jell-O cups, instant oatmeal --”

“Lemon-lime soda and orange juice,” Sam added.

“And saltines,” Gwen said with a smile. “Buy lots of saltines.”

Dean scribbled the suggestions on the pad of paper.

Sam put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. She’d shared her suspicions about Jo’s state with him earlier. He gave her a warning glance and she mouthed ‘what’ at him. He cleared his throat. “Crackers are really good for nausea. Jo might be able to keep those down.” He plucked the menu from behind the salt and pepper shakers by the wall and laid it flat on the table between them so she could see it too. His arm went around her.

“You know, I think she’ll be fine, Dean,” Gwen told him, relaxing back against Sam.

“I hope so. Hate seeing her sick.” Dean tucked into the rest of his breakfast and when he’d gone and it was only Sam and Gwen, Sam gave her a chiding glance.

“Don’t even hint that to him, Gwen.”

“She’ll have to tell him soon.”

“In her own time. It’s Jo’s news to tell.”

“I know that.” She ate a piece of pineapple from the fruit cup she’d ordered.

“Do you? This is going to freak him out. And I’m betting Jo’s pretty freaked herself. This is like the worst thing that could happen, especially right now when we’re trying to find a place to start a home base.” Sam shook his head. “Man, she tells him and she really is going to be stuck at home. No way Dean’s going to let her run around hunting if there’s a chance she could get hurt.”

“ _Let_ her?” Gwen’s brows rose. “That’s saying she has no choice. She has a choice, Sam. Being pregnant isn’t going to erase her hunting skills.”

“It’ll make her more delicate.”

She laughed. “Really? You believe that?”

“She can’t get thrown against a wall and expect to keep the baby,” he pointed out.

“You can’t get thrown against a wall and expect to come out of it okay anyway. Expecting her to stay home is unreasonable and frankly, I find it offensive to suggest it. My mother hunted when she was pregnant and she never lost a baby. Maybe she’ll have to take different cases --”

“And how often do our mild cases end up being the really dangerous ones?”

“So you want to put her on bed rest for nine months?”

“No, Dean will.”

“And what would you do in his place?”

“I’m not in his place, unless there’s something _you’re_ not telling me?” He put his arm along the back of the booth and half turned to face her.

“I’m not knocked up. But hypothetically, if I was, what would you do?”

His answer was instantaneous. “Retire immediately, create new identities, and move away from everyone. Make a new life elsewhere, like Witness Protection. Hide myself, you, and the baby as well as I could under a fake family line so that neither angels nor demons would know who we were and what the baby was. It’d hurt to leave, but to protect everyone, I would.”

“ _What_ the baby was?” She shook her head. “What would the baby be?”

“Tainted by my blood, doomed to carry the genes for a line of archangel vessels destined to end the world someday. A bit of monster, a bit of vessel.”

“Geez, Sam. A baby is a baby. Babies of monsters, babies of vessels, and maybe just plain old human babies from human parents, but still a baby. Tiny, helpless…a person until it’s told it has to be something else. You can raise a child to be anything and any way. Even monster babies can be raised to be something else if you know what you’re getting yourself into. You may be a vessel, but you’re not a monster, and I don’t believe any children you’d have would be evil, not with you raising them to be otherwise.”

He looked away. “We were talking about Dean and Jo.”

He was pulling back from the conversation and she let him. “What do you think Dean will do?”

“Freak out first. Have a long fight with Jo over it. Get shit-faced, which’ll take a lot. Go back, either start another fight or reconcile with her or….”

“Or,” she prodded.

“Run away into the first dangerous case he can find, get himself injured, then go back and announce he’s retiring and do all those steps I listed that I’d do.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“You think Jo’ll let him drag her off into retirement, because I don’t. I think if he tries that he’ll have a fight.”

“And we’ll have a Mexican stand-off.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Operation ‘tell Dean about her pregnancy’ was carefully planned by Jo. She waited until they were back at Bobby’s and both of them had had a good night’s sleep. Her mother and Bobby were out running errands, and Sam and Gwen were viewing a couple properties. They had privacy. She wanted Dean in a good mood.

After a leisured breakfast, Jo sat down in the chair across from him.

He patted the couch cushion beside him, voice coaxing. “Come here.”

“I come over there we won’t talk and we need to talk.”

“Sounds serious. What about?”

She meant to slide into it slowly, but in the end, she just blurted out the words. “I’m pregnant.”

His amiable grin faded and for a second, it seemed he thought she was joking. “You….” He blinked. “You’re…you’re what?”

“Pregnant.” She could barely whisper the word this time.

“How?”

The terror that appeared on his face was the mirror of her own. “You want me to draw you a diagram?”

“No, I know how it happens, but _how_ did it happen?” He sat forward.

“The usual way.”

“You’re taking the…we used…the odds!”

“You think _you’re_ surprised? Try being me. I took a test and the line was _really_ solid.”

“No. No. We can’t do that.” The terror in his eyes seemed to increase. “Jo, I can’t be a dad. It’s not something I can do.”

“Of course you can. You practically raised Sam. He’s alive and well.” 

“You don’t understand. I’m not ready for this.”

“You think I am? I don’t know anything about babies!”

“Then why’d you get pregnant?” He stood.

It felt as though all of her blood was draining away from her body and since Jo’d actually gone through that once she knew what it felt like. A coldness stole over her as all warmth seemed to flee. “You think I did this on purpose?” When Dean only looked at her, his lips tightening, Jo’s stomach seemed to flip inside her. “Do you?”

“Did you?”

“God, no!” She pushed to a standing position. “I’m not ready for a baby! You have to ask?”

“We were using protection, or at least I thought we were. Did you stop taking your pills?”

“No! You were right there with me, bucko. Takes two, you know. I didn’t get this way by myself.”

The argument escalated, Dean’s calm increasing as the emotions in his eyes blazed.

The door opened, her mother and Bobby stepping in. Had it been three hours already? Dean stopped mid-sentence, whirled and stormed out.

“Dean. _Dean_!” The door slammed and Jo closed her eyes, a hot rush of tears slipping down her cheeks. She wiped at them with her hands but more came. From outside came the sound of the Impala sliding on gravel and dirt.

“Jo?” Her mother’s voice was calm, low, and curious. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her eyes and crossed her arms, abandoning efforts to clear her tears. “I’m _pregnant_ ,” she spat out. Sobs came on the heel of the word and she ran for the stairs, going up and to that bedroom she and Dean were using. She lay on the bed, crying, wanting Dean back with her holding her.

Afternoon came, then evening, and Dean didn’t return.


	31. Chapter 31

Oh crap, was Bobby’s first response to the news and he could see it was Ellen’s as well. “Balls,” he said, setting the plastic sacks he’d been carrying on the floor.

“Oh hell,” Ellen replied.

They stood staring at the ceiling in the direction of the room Jo was in. Her sobs were heart-wrenching and Bobby wanted to throttle Dean even though he could understand why he’d stormed out. To Dean, such news was like the Titanic going down while he was on it. The boy had both a thing for family and a firm mistaken notion that he couldn’t have kids and such if he wanted them.

“Call Gwen,” he said. “I’ll call Sam.”

The news wasn’t a surprise to either of them and Bobby thought the fact that Sam was still with Gwen a good sign. Dean hadn’t called him with some urgent case they needed to leave on, which meant, most likely, that Dean was still in the area somewhere. Where would he go? A bar obviously, but which one?

Leaving Gwen and Ellen with Jo, he and Sam set out to search Sioux Falls for the Impala. Dean wasn’t answering his phone and Bobby nixed Sam’s GPS idea. They’d find Dean in the old fashioned way, which would give him time to cool off. Either that or get so stinkin’ drunk they could drag him back to the house fairly easily.

It was late when they found him. Bobby wondered if they were going to have to carry him out and sober him up before taking him back. If he’d been drinking all this time, they just might.

Sam got out of the car. “I’ll go in and get him.”

Bobby shook his head. “Not this time. You get the Impala goin’. It’s time I had a talk with him, former married guy to currently married guy. There’s things he needs to hear that you can’t tell him.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe that. “Like what? It’s pretty much a case of ‘what the hell are you doing?’.”

“It’s more than that and when you have a wife, you can talk to him about the vows he took. Get the car started.”

Sam rolled his eyes, shook his head, and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll start the car.”

Bobby walked into the building. Dean was at the end of the bar, a glass and a nearly empty bottle in front of him. He wondered how much of the whiskey gone from the glass had been Dean’s doing and pulled up the stool beside him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doin’ here, son?”

Bobby’s voice wasn’t gruff or angry, though Dean had expected it to be so. “Havin’ a drink.”

“Looks like you’ve had more than one.” He gestured to the bottle.

“Looks can be deceiving.” His intention had been to get drunk and keep drinking until he couldn’t hear Jo saying she was pregnant anymore. He’d ordered a drink, told the man to leave the bottle. He’d even started to swig down the booze, but halfway through his first glass, he’d gotten a mental image of Jo, very pregnant and trying to put him to bed after he’d had too much to drink. On the heels of that image had come another one -- Jo not willing to leave him with their baby because he drank too much. More and more images turned about in his mind, a realistic portrait of where they’d be if he did what he’d initially planned and got completely soused.

It wasn’t good to be drunk with a baby or child. He needed to dial it back a few notches.

Maybe he should leave. Maybe he should let Jo raise their child herself. But if he did that, he’d be an absent father, the same issue there was with his own dad, not to mention he didn’t want to leave Jo. He loved her. What was the right thing to do? What was the option that would be less likely to cause any of them pain in the end?

So he’d sat here with a paid for bottle and glass, swirling the amber liquid about and contemplating if he really wanted to try drinking this away or doing any of the other actions swirling through his mind. Maybe it was a good sign that he still had most of that original glass even after sitting there all day and a portion of the night. Maybe it was a good sign he was still sitting there and hadn’t called Sam.

“You love that woman you married?”

“Course I do.”

“Then why are you tied in knots over this? Dean, babies are a blessing.”

He snorted. “Not in our line of work.”

“ _Especially_ in our line of work. It takes a determined hunter to make a family work in this life and those who do it are strong and got something special about them.”

“But to subject a child to this life? To the traveling and the never ending terror? I’ve been there on that end, remember? It’s nothing but misery and pain and fear. On the other side of it? I tried it with Lisa and Ben.” Ahh, but Jo’s not Lisa, his mind whispered. You can’t compare the two. “It didn’t work out. It came home through me. It came home _as_ me. It won’t work out now. Only result is me becoming my dad and I love Jo too much to do that to her or our kid. I can’t do it. Best thing for them is me leaving.”

“Are you a husband, Dean?”

“Yes.”

“Bull. You promised Jo you’d love her, honor her, and cherish her through anything that comes your way until death. Now I don’t see her dead again, so that means you’re going back on your word that you made before God and everyone. You swore you’d stick with her through anything.”

“She’s _pregnant_ , Bobby.”

“And you’re going to let her be alone through it because _you’re_ afraid you can’t be a daddy? Spare me. You made a commitment to Jo and it’s not something you throw away at the first sign of trouble. You dig in together and face whatever it is, or do you not understand what the word ‘commitment’ means? Or how about ‘vow‘? You know what that one means, because you took one with her and that vow is sacred.”

There was the anger he’d thought he’d hear. Bobby’d just been building up to it.

“I’ve said it before, but damn it, Dean, could you just once not be a selfish, self-absorbed son of a bitch? Did you not notice how scared your wife is about this?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s crying her eyes out back at the house, thinks her marriage is over because she’s got a bun in the oven. She’s terrified of all the same things you are. That woman was raised in a hunting family, in case you don’t remember that little detail. She’s not a civilian. Her dad died on a hunt. Hell, _she_ died on one! She’s aware of the risks, she knows the score.” Bobby turned on the stool one finger jabbing against Dean’s chest. “Now, you nut up and do it fast, because like it or not, _idjit_ , you’re a husband and father and you’ve got more than your own thick skull to think about. Go home, tell Jo you love her, then show her you love her, or so help me _God_ , I’ll kick your ass to the moon and back and back again for good measure then hand you over to all the other people that love that girl, too.”

“Bobby --”

“Don’t be talking to me. Talk to Jo. Get moving. Sam’ll drive you back.”

Dean slowly slid from the stool and gestured at the bottle. “Bottle’s paid for.”

“You still here?”

He raised his hands in a gesture of defeat and left the bar. Sam was leaning against the Impala, arms crossed. Dean stopped in front of him. “You gonna lecture me, too?”

“Do I need to?”

“Bobby gave a pretty good speech. Hit most of the points I’ve been pondering for the past few hours.”

“Any he missed I should go over?”

“None jump out.”

Sam scuffed his foot along the ground and stared at it as he spoke. “You’re going back to Bobby’s, right?” He glanced up. “I mean, I can see you’re okay to drive. I don’t have to drive you. You’re going to go back?” Sam shrugged. “Your call, Dean.”

He knew what Sam was asking. If Sam let him drive back alone, would he really be going back, or would he take the opportunity to leave and run away? Would he run away out of his fears? Sam was letting him make the choice. Stay or go? It really was up to Dean. Sam wasn’t going to force him to go back. He looked like he wanted to, yet he wasn’t going to. He’d let Dean make whatever decision he wanted to on this. 

Dean looked at the building, then the road. Months ago, he’d never thought he could have a steady girlfriend and he’d done that. He’d thought he couldn’t have a wife and here he was with one. Maybe he _could_ be a father. Everyone around him seemed to think so. Maybe it’d be different with Jo.

What the hell am I doing, he thought. Get back to Jo, you dumb bastard. You finally find a woman who’ll have you, warts and all, and you contemplate leaving? Are you screwed in the head? 

“Thanks, Sammy, but uh,” digging the keys from his pocket, he held them out, “drive me anyway. You can reiterate what an idiot I’m being by even thinking about running from this.”

In the car and halfway back, Sam spoke again. “It’s not idiotic, Dean, the whole wanting to run away thing. It’s a natural reaction. Babies are a responsibility. _Kids_ are a responsibility. They change things.” He glanced at Dean. “You’re good with kids. I turned out okay. It’s scary and Gwen and I talked once about what I’d do --”

“ _You’ve_ talked kids?” That was surprising. Sam avoided the subject like the plague. “Isn’t it a little soon for you two?”

“It was a hypothetical discussion. We were actually talking about you and Jo and the subject shifted when we disagreed on a point.”

“What’d you decide you’d do?”

“It’s not important. My point is, the idea of being a dad scares normal guys and since we’re far from normal, I think the scary part gets magnified. Going by that line of reasoning….” He shrugged. “Jo’s got to be terrified.”

“Bobby mentioned that.” He leaned his head back. “It’s all real, Sam. Babies…they make it real. You know what I mean? Babies step it up. Add a new layer to life.”

“Well, if the monsters can have babies, why not the hunters?”

“What kind of life am I going to give that kid?”

“That’s for you and Jo to decide together. I think Jo’d like a say in your lives, Dean. It’s not all your decision. You’ve got her to work through it with. If you decide to retire --”

“Can’t do that. I don’t like retirement.”

“Good, because I don’t think Jo will want to go that route.”

Neither did he and not going that route with kids scared the hell out of him. “So how do I raise a kid without raising it in the life when Jo and I are still in it? Riddle me that one.”

Sam pulled in the drive. “You and Jo make that call. No one ever said parenthood was easy for anyone.”

He sat there in the car when Sam stopped, not moving to get out. “So what _did_ you decide on the subject of you and kids?”

“You’re stalling,” Sam accused in an almost weary tone.

“Yeah, I know.” Out of all the hardest things he’d had to do, this -- walking straight towards fatherhood -- was now first on the list. Once he walked back in that house, that was it. He was accepting the role and whatever came from it, whether joy or heartache or a bit of both. He’d be with his wife while she carried their child and be with her after, doing the dad thing. Diapers, two in the morning feedings, and all the things that came with babies.

Someday, his son or daughter would raise hands up to him and call him ‘daddy’ and he’d pick that child up and cradle him or her to him.

His hands were shaking and he balled them into fists. 

He remembered taking care of Sam when he’d been little more than a child himself.

Dean could feel the sweat on his back, his shirt sticking to him.

Be a man, he told himself. Jo’s right. You were right there with her every time. You were a happy participant in getting her this way. This baby she’s carrying is part you and part her, now get in there and act like the husband she needs right now.

Sam wouldn’t answer the question, refusing to draw out the conversation, and Dean got out of the car. Time to face the future.

The house was dark except for a light upstairs and one downstairs. As Dean went inside, Gwen and Ellen came outside. Ellen gave him a hard stare, but the relief in her eyes made him wince. If they’d all thought he’d run, Jo must really be in a bad way.

Gwen paused and turned back. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I turned out fine, didn’t I?”

“Looks like.”

“Food for thought, okay?”

She was trying to encourage him and he nodded. “Thanks.”

“It’s not all bad. Look for the good.” She smiled a little. “Yeah, I know. I’m a Pollyanna under it all. Sam’s already called me on that one.”

“Sometimes we need that. Sometimes I need that.” He gestured at the drive. “You’re ride is waiting.”

In a minute, Dean was alone downstairs. Stalling a bit longer, he took his boots off, thinking on what he needed to say to Jo. Swallowing hard, he went upstairs. Jo was on the bed facing the door when he opened it. Her arms were tight about a pillow and, in a second, he could see that she really was as terrified as he was, maybe even more so. A rush of guilt and shame slid over him and he felt like the worst heel in the world for accusing her earlier of deliberately getting pregnant.

“I’m an ass,” he told her and stepped in the room, closing the door behind him.

“You can say that again,” she mumbled and buried her face in the pillow.

“First time was hard enough.” Dean crossed to the bed and sat down. He wanted to touch her, comfort her, and after a moment, he put a hand on her hip. When she didn’t flinch, pull away, or push him away, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I just…. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not thrilled about this either, Dean.” She rolled her face back out from the pillow. Her skin was blotchy from tears, her eyes red and swollen, and she looked exhausted. Was she? He thought pregnant women slept a lot. Was she to that point yet? “I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not mom material. I don’t do mom things.”

“You’ll be a great mom, Jo. What are you talking about? I’m the one that’ll suck at parenthood.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. If any man was a born dad, you are. You _like_ kids. I don’t like kids. Or babies. They freak me out. I mean, what if I break it?”

“Break it?”

“You know what I mean.” Pushing the pillow aside, she sat up. “Babies are tiny. What if I cut off a finger while trying to clip it’s nails?”

“It’s not _that_ hard. You hold the hand still and clip with baby clippers. It’s holding the tiny clippers that’s the problem.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“Not since Sam was little.” He remembered their dad showing him how to clip Sam’s nails, emphasizing the fact that he needed to be firm, yet gentle. His dad had made it look so easy, but it hadn’t been as easy as Dean had thought. Still, it wasn’t as difficult as Jo was making it out to be either.

“See. You have experience. I never even did the babysitting thing as a teen. I didn’t like kids when I was one.”

“Didn’t you have a baby doll or something like that when you were little?”

She nodded. “Sure. Mom says I finger-painted a protection symbol on it’s stomach, announced it was possessed anyway, and threw it in the trash.”

“Why’d you throw it away?”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Well, when you want to get rid of things you put them in the trash, right? I threw it in the trash to get rid of the demon.”

He choked back a snort of laughter.

“It’s okay. You can laugh. Mom does every time she tells that story.” She was relaxing now, the line of strain on her face easing.

“It is a cute story, Jo.” He could see it in his head, too. Cute little Jo in pigtails dumping a doll in the trashcan under Ellen’s amused gaze and explaining why she did it with a serious and firm tone.

“With four year old logic.” She pushed her hair back from her face with a hand. “I was four at the time. Point is, I wasn’t the typical girl. Babies scare me.”

Bending a knee, he moved closer, hands raising to cup her face. “You’re not the typical woman, but you like taking care of people. You take care of me. You’ll be a good mom.”

Her gaze met his. “This makes it real, Dean.” 

‘This makes it real’. Pretty much the same words he’d said to Sam. Good to know they were on the same wavelength.

She clutched at his shirt with both hands. “It means --”

“I know.” He nodded. The fact that her fears were his made his own somehow seem less than they’d been. He felt calm and strangely in control. Dean slid his hands down to her shoulders and around to her back. In this moment, she seemed so fragile beneath his touch.

“We’re adults and we’re going to be responsible for…for….”

“For a baby.”

“Yeah. For one of those.” Her eyes were wide. “What are we going to do?”

He looked at her, gauging the weariness he saw and made a decision. “We take it one day at a time, one step at a time. Nothing big. What’s the first thing we need to do?” She stared at him and he shifted position, bringing her closer so they could lie down together. Once they were stretched out, her head on his chest, he continued. “We get you a doctor. Jodie had a kid once. She might know a good one and a pediatrician too. We get you started on whatever doctors want pregnant chicks to do. Then we buckle down and get a place, get it set up. We’ll be busy for awhile, but if Bobby can go off on vacation, we can take a couple weeks to do that.”

A couple weeks would work, right?

“What if you see a case you want to work?”

“We bump it to someone else. We need to get a solid base established and we need to have it now.” He smoothed his hand along her back. “But right now, we need to sleep. You’re exhausted.”

Her body shook with a yawn. “There’s more to talk about.”

“Not tonight.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go to sleep. The rest can wait until morning.”

Jo fell asleep within minutes, sliding so deeply into it that she was like a rag doll when he moved her so he could draw the covers up.

Here we go, he thought, and closed his eyes. Sleep dragged him under.

~~~~~~~~~~

For days, Ellen Harvelle was difficult to reach, not answering her phone and when she did call back, she was in a hurry. Nor did she come by the house. Bobby would only shrug when Jo asked him what her mom was up to, like he didn’t know, when she was sure he did know exactly what Ellen was doing.

Finally, a week after Jo had told her news, Ellen marched into Bobby’s kitchen. She was all business, no nonsense, and brooking no disobedience when she crooked her finger and said, “You four. Get in that car and follow me.”

They all exchanged curious glances and a babble of speculation as they followed Ellen, but their response was immediate and without hesitation. They followed.

She led them around the edge of Sioux Falls about fifteen minutes, sticking to back roads mostly, then pulled into a gravel driveway that curved around.

The shrubs around the property were overgrown, but Jo could see a house rising above the tops -- white with a gray roof. At the end of the drive was a two car garage that looked more like a shed because of the side sliding doors.

“She’s a realtor now,” Dean asked, turning off the car. Dust from their passage swirled and lifted into the air.

“She likes shopping for properties,” Jo said. Surely Dean had realized that by now? Ellen Harvelle liked the chase of a good property and the process of finding negotiation points. If she wanted a new career, she’d probably do well negotiating property deals for other people.

“She ever bought anything aside from the Roadhouse?” Sam opened the door.

“Not that I know of,” Jo replied, but seriously? She didn’t know. They’d never had that discussion ever. Ellen could have property all over the place that Jo didn’t know about. Her mother had more layers to her than an onion. “It’s another one of those weird quirky things she likes to do, like her Christmas routines and artsy movies.”

“I got dragged to a few open houses,” Gwen said. She slid across the seat towards Sam. “She was curious what houses were going for in those areas. She’s sharp, too. Leaky roof? Doesn’t get past her eagle eye. Flooding in the basement? Just try to convince her it’s fixed when it hasn’t been.”

“That sounds like her.”

Ellen approached. “You going to sit there with your mouths open or go inside?”

They got out of the car. The hedge surrounded the property and what wasn’t surrounded had a wooden privacy fence. Two trees would shade the backyard from the afternoon sun. Jo took Dean’s hand and walked with him up the sidewalk to the front of the house and onto the porch while Sam and Gwen set off around the yard.

Jo could almost picture a few chairs set up on the porch, maybe a cooler between a couple.

Her mother unlocked the front door and opened it.

“You get your realtor license, mom?”

Ellen gave her a half smile. “Just take a look, Jo.”

The entry was small, but like a separate little room that opened into the living room. There were a few pieces of furniture. To the immediate left was a room that could be closed off with pocket doors. At the other end of the living room on the left was another set of pocket doors and between them was a regular door. To the right on the other side of the room, was an open arch leading into a small kitchen. It wasn’t huge, but it had the necessities. Fridge, stove, microwave, and a stackable washer-dryer in the corner.

Jo eyed it. It had that new look to it, the body of it shiny and very white. She opened the washer door, then the dryer. It even had that new appliance smell. Thoughtful, she stepped back. It’d be nice to not have to haul their laundry elsewhere to get it done….

“”What’s she up to,” Dean whispered, stepping to the side door.

“Got me,” she replied, peering around him. “Is that the stairs to the basement?” 

His head turned and he grunted. “Let’s see the rest of the place first.”

There was a full bathroom at the back of the house off the living room and behind the kitchen. Jo thought the two rooms on the side would make good bedrooms. They were connected on the outside wall by a short hallway and a closet.

She heard Sam and Gwen come inside and returned to the living room. Sam was teasing Gwen about something in the kitchen, their voices too low to make out anything except his tone and Gwen’s amused laugh. Her mother was sitting at the table looking smug as can be. Jo crossed her arms. “Mom?”

“Go see the upper level,” was her suspiciously cheerful reply. Ellen pointed at the closed door along the wall. “That door opens into the stairway.”

“She’s definitely up to something,” she muttered to Dean as she went up the stairs.

Upstairs boasted three bedrooms, another full bath, and a large area at the top of the stairs that had built-in bookcases. Again, Jo had a mental image of what the room could look like. They could put a desk just out from the one wall, a file cabinet near it, and add cork tile to most of one wall. It could work.

“Any idea what, because I’m drawing a blank besides her looking for properties for us.” Dean opened a cupboard in the bathroom, then closed it.

“Not sure.” Ellen was too smug for it only to be that.

The basement was similar to Bobby’s in structure and Jo heard Sam and Dean mumbling about panic rooms as they gestured to one of the two separate rooms down there. If they wanted to create a panic room, there was space to do it.

Once they were all back upstairs and surrounding the table -- Jo on Dean’s lap and Gwen on Sam’s -- Jo cleared her throat. “What’s this about, mom?”

“It’s about finding you four a place. Isn’t that obvious?” She leaned back in her chair. “Furniture is included, what there is of it. It’s not much, but a few thrift shops should see you set. The place has been cleaned --”

“What’s the rent,” Sam asked. He had an arm about Gwen’s waist.

“Do you like the place,” Ellen countered.

He nodded. “Sure. Basement is perfect. Garage could be with work.”

“Layout is decent,” Dean said. “The yard has advantages.”

“Two full bathrooms. That’s all that needs saying,” was Gwen’s input.

Jo felt Dean tense behind her. “What’s the rent and is the owner willing to let us make modifications to the property?”

For a brief second, Jo saw satisfaction in her mother’s gaze. Her reply stunned Jo.

~~~~~~~~~~

Watching the four of them look over the house was like watching Jo open Christmas presents when she was a child and Ellen had trouble not grinning. She’d been hoping they’d react this way.

Ellen crossed her legs and tossed four sets of keys across the table. “Happy hunting, family. It’s yours.”

“Ellen?” Sam picked up one set of keys. “Did you….” His lips pursed with a question he didn’t finish, brows raising.

Jo went very still. “Mom? You….” She licked her lips. “You bought us a house?” One brow quirked.

Dean frowned and shook his head slowly. “Ellen, we can’t accept this.”

Only Gwen was silent, staring at the keys and at Ellen over and over. She looked like she was about to cry and Ellen wondered if Gwen was just now understanding that Ellen considered her family, too.

“Why not, Dean? Why can’t you take it?”

“We can’t take all your money like this.”

“What are you going to live on.” Sam asked.

Both of them were the sweetest men she knew and Ellen uttered a low laugh. “I have what I need. Besides, if you’re so worried about my finances, let me assure you I’m not destitute. The Roadhouse property finally sold and for more than I’d expected it to. I’ve still got money left from that even after buying this place and Dean? What’s mine will eventually be yours and Jo’s anyway.” She nudged the remaining three sets of keys closer. “I bought this place as an investment property, but Jodie and Bobby pointed out that it’d be a good place for you four. The more I walked through it, the more I agreed. Now, if you really don’t want it, I’ll rent it out and make a profit in the long run. If you do want it, we’ll get the legal ball rolling to put the place in all your names.”

“You’ll lose the income,” Jo said, but Ellen didn’t miss how her eyes kept returning to the keys. 

“Jo, baby, I don’t care about the money. I care about all of you and if you’re setting up a home base, you do it right. Best way is without a mortgage or rent to pay. Trust me on this. If I can help you, I will. Let me do this.”

“We need to talk about it.” Dean was torn. Ellen could see it. They were all torn.

She stood. “Lock up when you leave. I’ll be at Jodie’s until ten, then I’m heading home. No rush. Take your time. You talk this out between you.”

Ellen hadn’t ended up paying as much for the property as they’d likely think. Jodie had known the owner and advised Ellen to bring Bobby in as negotiator rather than doing it herself. The old boy who’d owned it hadn’t thought much of independent women. As much as Ellen hated that mindset, she wasn’t above using it to her advantage. Bobby had gone up against the old guy, who, in Ellen’s opinion, hadn’t had a prayer. Any man who could get his soul back from a demon like Bobby had was a prize in negotiations.

They’d argued over every little point, back and forth, offer and counteroffer, until Bobby had worn him down. Ellen had gotten the property for practically a song.

To her, giving it to Jo, Dean, Sam, and Gwen was an act of love. They needed a good place, she had one, and honestly, she really did have what she needed to live on. She didn’t care about the money.

Bobby and Jodie were waiting with beer, popcorn, and DVD’s at Jodie’s.

“Well,” Bobby asked.

“They like it?” Jodie handed her a beer.

“It’s looking positive.”

Half an hour later, her phone rang.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Ellen had gone, Gwen moved to that chair and listened with half an ear to the conversation around her.

Ellen’s generosity floored Gwen, though by now, she shouldn’t be surprised at anything Ellen did.

She looked up to find three pairs of sympathetic eyes upon her. “I didn’t expect….”

Jo shrugged. “You’re family.” She said it like it was a well-known fact.

A small smile played at the corners of Dean’s mouth. “Once Ellen decides that….”

Sam crossed his arms on the tabletop. “There’s no going back.”

Reaching out, she picked up one set of keys and held them up. “Are we accepting her offer?”

“It _would_ help to have only utilities and taxes to pay.” He held up the set of keys still in his hand.

“Anyone else feel like mama bird just shoved her newly hatched babies out of the nest into a freefall?” Dean picked up a set of keys, excitement sparking in his eyes, that same excitement Gwen saw in Sam’s eyes and knew was in her own. It was happening. It was really happening.

Jo put a hand on her stomach, looking slowly around the room. That hand moved to take Dean’s and she picked up the final set of keys with her free hand. “Well, then. Let’s make mama bird proud, shall we?”

It was decided.

The house was theirs.

Team Winchester had found a home base.

~~~~~~~~~~

Uzziel was missing.

There was no denying it now. He was just…gone. Castiel paced the throne room, wondering what he should do. Create a search party? He and Abby had already been searching with no luck. There was simply no trail. If Uzziel had chosen to leave heaven, he’d certainly covered his tracks well enough.

“Castiel?”

He turned. Jael came towards him. “Yes?”

“Can I talk to you a moment?”

“Certainly.”

“I think Uzziel’s been kidnapped.” He took off the glasses he didn’t really need. Worry swam in his dark eyes. Jael was devoted to Uzziel. If anyone knew that Uzziel had left heaven willingly, it would be Jael. “I mean, he was committed to doing a good job. He wanted the potential rewards when our Father returns and was determined not to think about earth. He was trying to put it from his mind, Castiel. You have to believe me. He wouldn’t abandon heaven. Not like this. He’d tell you if he’d changed his mind and was leaving.”

He hadn’t told Raphael he’d changed his mind. He’d simply switched sides. Castiel didn’t point that out. “Perhaps it was a spur of the moment decision like his initial one.”

“No! He wouldn’t! He knows you depend on him. I know what you’re thinking. You think it’s like with Raphael, but let me tell you something about that. Raphael was insane and we all knew it. The goal he had wasn’t a worthy one in the end and if there’s one thing you know about Uzziel, isn’t it that he works for worthy goals? When he realized Raphael’s goal wasn’t a good one, he turned, but this goal we have here now is a good one. He wouldn’t abandon it!”

“Your faith in him --”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yes.” He said it without hesitation, for even though Uzziel’s methods were different from his and they’d disagreed, he had come to trust him.

“Then don’t give up on him. Don’t stop searching and trying to find out what happened to him. Someone knows something.”

“You have an idea on how to proceed then? We’ve searched heaven. He isn’t here.”

His eyes glittered with determination. “I have an idea on who to talk to.”

Unfortunately, Castiel had an idea as well. Who here wanted Uzziel out of the way and would go to any lengths to accomplish that? There was only one name that leapt to mind.

Balthazar.

~~~~~~~~~~

The past two weeks since Jo had announced her pregnancy had gone by quickly and not entirely the way Ellen suspected Jo and Dean had wanted them to go.

Lordy, she could see a ton of herself in Jo now!

Once Jo embraced the idea of that house, she’d thrown herself into setting it up, bossing everyone around her to get what she wanted done. Ellen recalled herself working on the Roadhouse many years ago. Heaven help him if Bill had gotten in her way back then! It was the same with Jo and Dean on the home base.

Gwen and Sam pretty much went along with what Jo wanted, though they’d put their feet down on a few things. It should have taken longer to get the basic house set up, but with the four of them working at it, it was ready to move in in no time. The next step was creating the panic room, which was Sam and Dean’s project. Neither would let Gwen or Jo help. For now, the basement was the ‘man space’. 

Dean was treating Jo like a delicate princess and Ellen sincerely hoped he’d pull back on that, because too much of it and Jo was going to deck him. Ellen could see it was going to spread into their hunting life and cause strife.

She was staying out of it, though. It was their marriage and their life. If they asked for her advice, she’d give it. Until then, she’d zip it.

Funny, how once she’d accepted that Jo was an adult, she felt free. She still worried and all that, yet she was calm in a way she’d never been before. The desperation she’d always felt before had gone from her. Jo was an adult, with her own life, and Ellen couldn’t protect her from whatever would come. A parent couldn’t. A parent had to let go.

As for her pregnancy, Jo had come to grips with it, too, finding a doctor and having her first appointment. Dean had gone with her and come back saying he should have been a gynecologist. Gwen had choked on her coffee and said, “Oh thank God for small favors that _that_ dream was never realized.” He’d responded with a lopsided grin and some teasing on the apparently futile search for real information on Gwen’s birth parents.

“Hello Ellen.”

She whirled. The voice had a faint accent. The man himself was thin, his gaze brimming with sardonic amusement, as though he knew a joke Ellen didn’t quite get yet. He wasn’t a demon unless he was a high level one. She had all the protections she could put on this house. “What are you,” she asked, stepping back towards the door she’d come through a moment earlier.

“Very interested in you is what I am.” Striding forward, he grasped her arm, his other hand raising to her face.

Ellen lost consciousness.

She woke on a bed in a cabin. The walls were rough wood and sitting on the floor beside her was Uzziel. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The cabin appeared to be a single large room with one open door off to the side. Through it, she could see a bathtub. “What the hell was that,” she asked, “and where the hell am I?”

“That,” he said, staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace, “was Balthazar.” Raising his hands, he gestured around them. “Welcome to my prison, Ellen.” He turned his head, looking at her. Sadness flickered in his eyes. “Twenty days of temptation passed. Twenty left. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to pass this trial.”

He returned his gaze to the flames and Ellen wondered just what she specifically was doing there. Who was Balthazar and why was he tempting Uzziel?


	32. Chapter 32

Moving in hadn’t taken long since none of them had much in the way of stuff. Gwen had simply dumped her two bags in Sam’s room and helped Jo arrange the bedroom she and Dean had chosen. After a quick lunch, they’d all sat down at the table and, with Ellen and Bobby’s help, had developed a clear, realistic picture of their finances and what it would take to run their base. Eventually, they’d need to sit down and assess again, but not for awhile. The money Jo and Dean had won helped, as did what had been left in Jo’s college fund.

Gwen felt more like an adult that she ever had. It was a good feeling to be in charge of her own life.

Some day soon, they were going to have to change their arrangement and work it more like Bobby did, with at least one of them having an actual job to pay bills. She’d jokingly suggested they go into business as private investigators, to which Sam and Jo had seemed thoughtful. Jo had begun looking into that even. Dean’s suggestion was that Sam write a wildly successful series of paranormal romances like what were hot on the market. He’d been full of plot ideas, too. Gwen hadn’t asked how he knew what was hot on the market. She’d come to the conclusion that Dean was definitely a romantic beneath everything. After all, the guy had a secret addiction to ‘Dr. Sexy, M.D.’ and thought only Sam knew about it. In actuality, everyone knew about it. Sam, Jo, Gwen, Ellen, Bobby. Probably Castiel, too. 

While Gwen had chosen the smallest bedroom upstairs, she really shouldn’t have bothered since she was in Sam’s room every night since they’d moved in anyway. He’d chosen the back lower room for his bedroom and it was just right for a full sized bed, a nightstand, small dresser, and a table and chair in one corner. Her clothes and his mingled in the dresser drawers and the closet. They hadn’t even talked about doing it. Sam had just unpacked everything one morning while she’d been at Bobby’s.

Her efforts to dig up information on her birth parents were frustrating in that there was no information. All she had was the birth certificate and the mentions in the journals. It was maddening to be so close and far away at the same time. They all told her to be patient and Jo insisted that if the information was out there, Sam would find it. ‘Sam,’ she’d said, ‘can find anyone whether they want to be found or not.’ There was probably a story behind that, considering the tone Jo had used, but Gwen didn’t ask. There were still a lot of things she didn’t know about all of them. One of these days, she’d ask all of the questions she was building up, but not yet. It could all come later.

She was contemplating going to see Arlene about her birth parents. Sam may be good, but Gwen knew Arlene had skills few did in that area. Arlene had been the one Gwen had always used to find people before. She’d go, make the trip solo, and see what Arlene could find for her. She’d even fly out to the coast so she wouldn’t be gone as long as if she drove. Gwen hadn’t shared her plan with anyone yet. She wanted to make sure Sam had had a chance to dig before she went to someone else.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam told her in an eerie bout of mind reading, hand sliding along her bare arm in a slow caress. “Even if I have to trick Cas and trap him in Holy Fire to get him to talk.”

“Aww….” Gwen moved closer under the covers, running a hand along his bare chest. “You’d piss off an angel for me? Sam, that’s sweet.”

“We’ll track down your birth parents or at least find out about your family, where you’re from, what they do. Maybe you even have living relatives. It just might take awhile is all.”

“Ellen thinks I came from hunters.”

“Ellen could be right.” He rolled onto his back “Even aliases leave trails of some kind and there isn’t one. That makes me think someone did their best to cover up who Mia and Aaron were and erase them.”

“The Campbell’s?”

“Maybe. Depending on where the trail leads, it might not be a human agency that did it.”

“What, like a demon?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of an angel and a recent cover-up. Cas didn’t want us digging.”

“You don’t think that he --”

“If he thought he was protecting you and us, he might bury the information, make it go away.” He put an arm beneath his head. “I wish those boxes were in some sort of real order. Finding those years Patricia listed hasn’t been as easy as I’d thought.” He had that look in his eyes, the one that indicated his mind had been working overtime on this puzzle.

He wasn’t the only one. They’d both been trying to find the file for the case Neal and Patricia had been working on when Neal had taken Gwen home to his family to raise, the one that Gwen was connected to in some way. It didn’t appear to be there, nor was there any sign as yet of Neal’s hunting diaries. He’d written as much as her mother had, so there should be volumes of information.

“At least we found my childhood. I knew dad took a butt-load of pictures.” It had been nice to go through them with her newest family around her, explaining who people were and in the case of a couple pictures, what had been going on. She looked at the clock, then sat up with a tiny smile. “Happy birthday, Sam. It’s officially May second. You’re thirty. How’s it feel to be old?”

“I’ll ask Dean in the morning.”

She laughed. “Good answer. What time are you leaving tomorrow?” They’d caught a case that looked to be large on heavy lifting of the sort Gwen had always passed on. She knew her physical limits.

“When we convince Jo she doesn’t need to go with us. You know, I don’t get it. She knows she’s pregnant, knows she has to make concessions for that, yet she’s acting like it’s another ordinary day in our lives.”

“Dean’s not helping. Admit that. He’s behaving like she’s a civilian who needs to be protected. I’m trying to stay out of the crossfire.”

“Good plan.”

Shifting, she straddled him, the covers pooling about them. “So. You never told me what you wanted for your birthday.”

His hands grasped her hips. “I think you’ve got a good start on a present.”

“Why Sam, are you being vulgar,” she asked in a playful voice.

“Why yes, Gwen, yes I am.”

Leaning down, she placed a whisper soft kiss on his lips. “I can work with that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The argument had been going on for nearly an hour. Dean insisted Jo had to stay home while Jo wanted to go with them.

“No. You’re staying here.”

“Dean!”

“It’s too dangerous. You stay here or we bump it to someone else.”

“I’m going.” 

Dean looked down at her stomach. Jo knew he was focusing on her stomach. He always focused on it anymore and as soon as she’d started to show, he’d promptly forgotten she was a hunter too -- and she wasn’t even ready for maternity clothes yet. The baby was still a little bump and she had no trouble fastening her jeans, but Dean was behaving like her belly was out front and center where no one could possibly miss that she was pregnant. He’d taken to putting his hand on her stomach at night and sliding it slowly over the bump. 

She knew that much more of this protective crap and she’d strangle him -- and there were still months to go. 

“You most certainly are not. Sam’ll stay here with you.”

“Wait, what?” Sam paused in choosing weapons to pack, head swiveling in their direction. “I’ll what? No, Dean --”

“Yes. You stay here and protect Jo.”

“Protect --” Jo groaned in frustration and stomped a foot. “Dean, we live here! I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“You’re pregnant. You need someone with you in case something happens.”

“I have a phone. Mom, Jodie, and Bobby are like five, ten, and fifteen minutes away respectively and it’s not an issue because I’m going with you.”

Gwen cleared her throat. “I’ll stay.”

Jo rounded on her. “Gwen!”

“It’s a muscle job, Jo. We’d pass on it anyway. Besides,” she held up her phone, “Bobby has something for us and it’s local.”

“What is it,” Dean demanded.

Gwen’s smile was crooked. “Don’t get your boxers in a twist, Dean. I think it has to do with the boxes.”

Or maybe something to do with tracing Gwen’s parents? None of them had any luck with the names. Mia and Aaron Carys appeared to be aliases, though Ellen had suggested that perhaps someone had done a good job of erasing obvious traces of them. That theory was no stranger than some of the others they’d been coming up with. They’d even made a game of creating odd theories until it had become obvious that Gwen was starting to get depressed with the lack of progress. Jo had a feeling that one of these days, they’d find something and the whole puzzle would come together in one fell swoop.

“I want to go with you and Sam,” she insisted, then realized how bratty and childish that sounded and continued like she’d meant to all along, “but I guess I’ll stay here and see what Bobby has for us.” She held up a finger at Dean, pointing at him. “You did not win.”

He was hiding a pleased smile, his eyes dancing with smug satisfaction. “I fully understand that.”

“I’m choosing to stay because Bobby comes up with some interesting cases. Whatever he has for us will be…interesting.”

“He does find the interesting ones,” Dean agreed. “Now, we’ll be gone for a couple weeks at least depending on how it goes. We’ll try to get back faster.”

“Text me as often as you can.” Stepping close, Jo grasped the edges of his shirtfront and looked up at him. He put his hands on her waist. “Do what you have to, Dean, okay?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Sam zip the bag of weapons, heft it, and grasp Gwen’s hand in his, leading her outside.

“You understand me? Don’t you pull back because you’ve got me and junior on your mind. You give this case no less than your usual percent or I will kick your ass when you return.”

“Whatever I have to,” he said with a nod.

“Good.” She raised a hand, pressed it to his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jo.”

“Go kick some monster ass.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She watched him drive off with Sam, her feelings mixed. It was the first job they’d taken since getting the base set up and she’d wanted to be a part of that. It was historic in a way. The beginning of a new era.

Gwen leaned on the porch railing as the dust faded in the breeze. “Want to go out now or wait until later?”

“Let me call mom first, see if she has any idea what Bobby’s got.”

Ellen didn’t answer though, and Jo and Gwen headed for Bobby’s house.

~~~~~~~~~~

A single glance was all it took for Bobby to reflect on how young all of them were. Dean, Jo, Sam, and Gwen. They were babies really. Stubborn babies, but babies all the same. Jo was just like her mama, not willing to bend when she thought she was right, and Dean? He was like John, yet not in the way Dean assumed. He’d gotten the stubborn gene John had been full of.

“What’s this?” Jo gestured at the accordion file folder Bobby plopped in front of her.

“A compromise for you to take to your husband.” When Jo merely stared at it, Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes. “Will you just open it?”

Two stubborn peas in a pod those two were. Dean was acting like being pregnant removed every one of Jo’s hunting skills and Jo was behaving like nothing was different. Both needed to change fast. While Bobby understood Dean’s protectiveness of Jo, she was already chafing under his restrictions and was beginning to feel like he thought she was a civilian idiot instead of an experienced hunter who just happened to have a bun in the oven. On the flip side, he understood her view, too. It had to be maddening to find herself back at something like square one where Ellen had kept her for years.

With a put upon sigh, she opened it and drew out the top papers. In ten seconds, he had her interest. Her expression smoothed out, the attitude dropping away. “Tell me,” she demanded.

“We’ve been cataloguing the contents of those boxes.”

“Uh-huh….” She held up a page of line drawings.

“That file you have in your hands is a listing of cursed objects they ran across and failed to retrieve and put in safe places. Some of those were boxed, but nabbed by a thief named Bela Talbot a few years back. There are notations to the side of the drawings and pictures in that case. Looks like she’d found one of the storage units and broke in. As for the rest? Out there somewhere causing mayhem.”

“And?”

“You put together a nice file.”

“I’m good at field work, too,” she replied sweetly.

“Field work is out if you want a calm relationship with Dean at present.”

Her lips pursed with displeasure.

He continued. “Start tracking them down. When you think you’ve got one, pass it to Gwen or Sam and Dean or other hunters. Give them all to Sam and Dean if you want. I figure there’s enough there to occupy you for a good year or longer depending on how hidden they are by now.”

“Dean won’t like it.”

Dean wanted to keep Jo out of the line of fire, but he was going at it all wrong. “He’ll like it less if you’re running around out there in the field. It’s called a compromise. Neither of you gets exactly what you want and you’re equally disappointed.”

She glanced up at him. “It’ll keep me in the game, though.”

“And relatively safe -- as much as any of us ever are. While you’re here, you can answer phones, too.”

“You want me on the phones? Hormonal me?”

He wouldn’t actually put her on the phones, but at least she realized she was hormonal now. “Depends on who it is. Garth could use a verbal slap sometimes.”

“Garth always thinks I’m coming on to him.”

“He thinks anything female is coming on to him.”

“True, because he’s such a ‘play-ah’.”

Bobby smiled. “Take it to Dean when he gets back.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Hate seeing you mope around.”

She slid the papers back in the folder. “Hey, do you know where mom is? I’ve tried her cell and we drove by the house, but she’s not there.”

That was odd. Ellen was always accessible these days. “Nope. Maybe you could talk to Jodie later? She might know something.”

“Maybe.”

He adjusted his cap. “Well, I got work.” Ten minutes later, while he was working on the engine of a new acquisition, Gwen came to watch. She didn’t say anything, simply watched and he cleared his throat. “Good call on that file you found.”

“Thank you.”

“Something you want?”

She shrugged slowly. “Not really.” Her tone suggested otherwise.

Bobby waited.

Gwen leaned against the car. “You’ve known a lot of hunters over the years, right?”

“I have, but I didn’t get into hunting until….”

“I know. Sam told me. Still, you know people and you’ve _known_ people. What do you think of what we’ve found so far about my birth parents? Ellen thinks they were hunters and it was more an honor thing, the Campbell’s taking me in as an orphan.”

“It’s possible, I guess. I don’t know, Gwen. The only thing we know is that Neal and Patricia Campbell knew your parents and that Aaron and Mia had done research for them on a few cases. They could have been civilian sources who got caught in the crossfire.”

“Or hunters taking time off from being active to start a family.”

“Could be. Got no answers for you. Wish I did.”

“Anyone you could ask?”

He sighed and stood up straight, wiping his hands on a cloth. “I suppose I could ask Rufus and a few others if they’ve heard the names, but, to tell you the truth, there’s not too many older hunters left to ask. The Apocalypse got a lot of good men and women, Gwen, and the ones who really might have been able to give you answers were among them.”

“Would you try?”

He studied her. It had taken him awhile to warm up to her, but he was glad she’d become part of their family. She made Sam smile and that was a task all in itself these days. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Gwen nodded. “Thank you, Bobby.” She gestured at the engine. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah, you can go in and make sure Jo doesn’t go stir-crazy.”

With a nod and a smile, she was gone, back towards the house. He waited a few minutes, then drew out his phone and began to call around.

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel had expected Balthazar to be difficult to find. He’d expected to have to literally track him down.

That wasn’t the case.

Upon entering the throne room with Jael and Abby, he found Balthazar waiting there, lounging in one chair below the dais. He had a leg thrown over the arm and was swinging that foot back and forth. His hands were laced across his stomach.

“There you are, Cassy. I thought I’d have to come looking for you.”

“What have you done with Uzziel,” Jael demanded, rushing forward towards him.

“I don’t answer to you,” was his calm reply. “I answer to Cas only.”

“Then answer,” Castiel told him. “What have you done to Uzziel?”

“You’re aware of his weakness. How is his fight with that coming?”

“He chose heaven.”

Balthazar laughed. “Did he? Did he really?” He turned in the chair, sitting up. “Unless he can deal with his desire head-on, he’s useless to you. All I’ve done is give him the opportunity to properly contemplate his desire and face it for good.”

He was calm, too calm. He should be making excuses and running away, yet here he sat, calm in the throne room beneath Castiel’s gaze. “Where is he?”

“Safe and sound. Same as Ellen. They’re both rather _safe_ at present.”

“Ellen?” Castiel felt alarm stab through him. “Balthazar what exactly have you done? I knew you disliked Uzziel, but to play with his eternity?”

Standing, he crossed his arms. “How long do you think before he’d slip; before the wondering would get too much for him and he’d go back down?”

“It’s not your call to make. You’ve no right to do that to him or anyone else. You’re causing trouble for no reason other than to cause trouble because you’re bored.”

He blinked and seemed taken aback by that charge. “I am bored, yes, but there _is_ a reason. Cas, listen to me. Uzziel has to face his fear and longing or you will lose him to earth. It’s inevitable as long as he tried to deny it’s there. I don’t like him, I do believe I’d do a better job than he, but do you really think I believe you’ll promote me knowing I’d sent him on a trial by fire? I may have my sleazy moments, but I’m not stupid.” He turned his head, studying Abigael, then Jael. “Jael, you know Uzziel the best of all of us. If he doesn’t face this now, will he eventually fall?”

“You don’t know that.” The affirmative was on his face though. What Balthazar said was true and Jael knew it.

Why hadn’t Uzziel admitted that? Why had he tried to hide it?

“You can’t keep him insulated from his desires. He’s been wavering, Castiel. He claimed he wasn’t and he lied. We all saw it and anyone who claims otherwise is also lying. He’s facing it right now and he’ll either fall or come back stronger than ever. He’s had twenty days thus far and today marks the beginning of the final twenty. I must say he did very well in those first days. When the forty-first day begins, the locks holding him in place at present will dissolve into nothing. They’re made to be temporary. They’ll also dissolve if he makes a very clear decision that conquers his desires completely.”

“You’re pathological,” Castiel murmured, shaking his head.

Balthazar rolled his eyes and held out his hands. “Here. Either slap me on the wrists, confine me until he emerges safe from his trial, or let me go.”

He hated to confine anyone, but it had to be done. He couldn’t let Balthazar run free after this. “Jael, call a few guards.”

“Now all the others will know you mean business. Don’t be too lenient on me, Cassy. You’ll thank me later and if Uzziel doesn’t come through this, I’ll accept full banishment from heaven without fighting you over it.”

“Why are you so certain he won’t fall,” Abby asked, moving to stand beside Castiel. Her arm brushed his.

“Because he’s stronger than he thinks. Once he understands how to approach it, he can help the others with it, and there are others struggling at present.”

Balthazar was right. Uzziel wasn’t the only one. Castiel had seen others having the same desires.

Abby slid her hands in her coat pockets. “You’re reasoning is skewed, yet strangely logical on all points. Cause trouble and force Cas to deal with you as a warning to others not to do the same. Kidnap Uzziel and force him to face his weakness in the belief that he’s strong enough to overcome in the end. You’ve a strange way to show your loyalty.”

He winked. “It works, sweetheart.” His attention slid to Castiel. “You should sentence me publicly.”

“You’re not being noble or self-sacrificing --”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “I want you to succeed because I believe you’re the best one to run this joint. Uzziel will emerge from his prison all the better. You’ll see.” The guards arrived and he stepped towards them. “Ahh, my jailers. Shall we go then boys?”

“He’s maddening,” Castiel told Abby after Balthazar had been taken away. Jael had followed the guards, leaving Cas and Abby alone.

“That he is, but he’s sincere in his desire that you succeed.” She took the chair Balthazar had been sitting in, perching on the edge.

“He didn’t have to do any of that. Kidnapping Uzziel, then Ellen. Putting them somewhere….”

“Somewhere safe, as he stressed.”

Castiel paced before her. “What sort of place would he consider safe?”

“One guarded from us and from humans both, considering this human age of technology and GPS.”

“True, true.” He nodded. “What sort of location would be shielded from us? A place that Uzziel would be free of easily once however Balthazar has him jailed dissolves.”

“Well….” Standing, Abby came to him, arms crossing. “We could check the safe houses Zachariah had set up all over the world.” 

“I checked those.”

“I mean the unofficial ones. His personal escapes.”

“Personal….” Why did that not surprise him? “I should have anticipated that.” Knowing how Zachariah had been, why hadn’t he realized Zachariah had kept unofficial places as well? He would have wanted a place to do the dirty work he’d engaged in, like raising Jo and Ellen from the dead and messing with their minds. He would have needed privacy to do that. “How did you know?”

“A guess. As sneaky as he was….” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. She hadn’t liked Zachariah any better than most of the remaining angels in heaven. “I could still be wrong.”

“Abby,” he stepped close to her. “Who will have that information or know where to find it?”

“Try Mariel. She worked directly for him for awhile until he decided she wasn’t driven in the way he wanted her to be. He had her demoted.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

The curtains on the cabin windows were drawn and Ellen wondered what the landscape outside looked like. Where had this Balthazar dropped her?

“Where are we?”

Uzziel shrugged and leaned back on his hands. “I honestly don’t know. Balthazar and a few of his like-minded associates attacked me, dragged me out of heaven, and I lost consciousness. I’m not certain why. I woke up here and to his smug challenge to last forty days on earth.”

“Not very supportive is he?”

He laughed a little at that comment. “Supportive is the last word to describe what he is, but he is quite loyal to Castiel in his own way. If that matters.”

“It might.” She gripped the edge of the mattress and looked about the cabin again, taking time to really study it. Honestly, it looked like one of those places Dean and Sam usually stayed at except for the two rows of symbols on the walls, one high and the other low. A few Ellen recognized and she gestured to them. “Enochian, right?”

“Obscure Enochian at that. Where he dug those up I don’t know. They haven’t been used…. Well, not since Michael and Lucifer first began tangling. You see the ones on the left over there? They were part of the first layer of Lucifer’s prison.” He sighed. “The particular combination of symbols keeps me from seeing out and others from seeing me in here. Anyone intending to ride in and save us --”

“Save us? What about your angelic powers?”

“Nullified by the symbols on the lower half of the walls. They have a dampening effect, rendering me helpless. The only advantage left is my human vessel and I’m not seeing much advantage right now in that.”

“Uz…. What’s going on here,” Ellen asked cautiously.

Drawing his knees up, he wrapped his arms about them. “Jealousy I think? I’m not certain. There’s a firm belief among some that I’m unqualified for the position of trust and friendship that Castiel has extended to me and all because I was one of Raphael’s generals. I hadn’t thought it was the issue it apparently has become. You see, Balthazar and Castiel were friends once, but things happened. Cas no longer trusts him like he did and much of it is Balthazar’s own fault. Balthazar wants to be where I am. Was, rather. I wonder if he’s convinced them all that I fell? I was struggling with the human condition.” 

“Why would you fall?”

His glance slid to her, bright and intense. “Do you have any idea how many human wars have started over a single woman?”

“You don’t mean….” She raised her brows, taking a moment to think abut that. “Me? I’m hardly Helen of Troy, Uz.”

“But you appeal to me on a physical and emotional level. I have contemplated falling many hours.” Uzziel rested his chin on his knees. “I’d been lying to Castiel about that. He spelled out my choices and I did try. I tried to concentrate on my work and ignore the allure of humanity. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I lied about feeling better.” He closed his eyes a moment. “I lied, Ellen. How far I’ve already lowered myself…. I thought I might succeed in passing Balthazar’s challenge until he dropped you in here with me. He’s figured out my weakness and has the tactical advantage at present.”

“So turn that to your favor.” He was attracted to her on an emotional level? How was that possible with what Castiel had once told her about angels and emotions? 

“How? He found my weakness. He’s used it against me.”

“Make your weakness a strength.”

“I don’t understand,” Uzziel admitted with a frown.

“Uzziel, think about Sam and Dean Winchester. In angelic eyes they’re weak, right? Stubborn, disobedient. Filled to the brim with weaknesses galore.”

He nodded. “Yes. We found everything about humans to be weak.”

“Those two stubborn, disobedient humans stopped the Apocalypse. They used what you all considered weakness to thwart the plan for them.”

“So how do I turn this to my favor? How do I make my longing to be on earth a strength?” 

She didn’t want to tell him she hadn’t thought that part out yet. Instead, she asked, “Cas said angels don’t feel like we do, so why are you feeling emotions?”

“That actually used to be true. I think it’s a switch that’s gotten thrown inside of all of us. I never really felt like this until the civil war was over, though I know others felt it much earlier. The ones who fled heaven were the first after Castiel to break that restriction. When I decided to like humans and came to see you, the temptation to leave heaven then was high. I felt emotions I’d never experienced before.” He sighed. “There’s a purpose to it. There has to be. I just can’t see it from where I am. He has a purpose in what He allows to happen, even to His angels. I just…. I can’t see it, Ellen. I don’t like not being able to see the meaning behind this. Why would He allow this mass emotional opening in us? What is the purpose?”

“Can you control it?”

“No. I can’t control my feelings.” He features scrunched like he was fighting off tears. “Some of us can. Castiel obviously. He’s practically human in many ways now, yet retains a sense of what he is. Abigael, Jael, Ariel…. How do they do it? How do they keep that certainty of self?”

How many more were there in heaven like Uzziel, unable to stem the flood of emotion to remain on earth for any length of time? It reminded Ellen of a test in a way, weeding out those who couldn’t pass it and setting those who could apart for something else. “So what do we do for the next twenty days?”

“Our best to keep me from falling. Rebuff me, Ellen. Be cruel and strike me if need be.”

She smothered a smile. “Somehow I doubt that’ll be necessary.” Getting up, she studied the cabin with an eye towards escape. “Have you tried leaving?”

“I can’t touch the walls because of the symbols,” he explained.

Stepping to one wall, Ellen laid a hand on it. “Maybe not, but I can.” She looked thoughtfully about the cabin, a plan forming. “See if you can’t find me a few things to use as tools.”

“Ellen?”

“This might not work if Balthazar is familiar with all types of women.” In minutes, he’d found a few things she could use and Ellen set to work on the door first, watching him out of the corner of her eye. For all his claims that he was tempted by her, he wasn’t looking at her any differently than he had before. “Let me get this straight. You were a soldier?”

“Yes, a general.”

“Look at this from a tactical standpoint. Take a step back --” 

He took a literal step backwards. “Done.”

“Approach it like this is a battle. You’re outnumbered, outgunned, and it looks like you’re going to lose. What do you do?” Before he could answer, she let out a growl of frustration and kicked the door. “What does this have, reinforced steel behind the lock?” Prying at the door did no good either. It wasn’t budging.

“I either retreat and regroup --”

“Which you can’t do.”

“Or I face the enemy head-on and put all of my resources against him.”

She went to one of the windows and shoved the curtain aside, intending on breaking the glass, only there was no window. There had likely been one at one time, but now it was rough wall like the rest of the cabin. “Put that plan here. What should you do?”

“The enemy is Balthazar --”

“Wrong. The enemy is your desire for humanity. You’ve got to face it, sweetie.” Ellen turned to look at him.

Understanding flickered in his eyes and he came towards her. “You’re right. I have to face my desire.” His hands cupped her face and Ellen had a second to realize his intent before his lips were on hers. 

His kiss was everything Ellen remembered it being -- enticing, warm, enthusiastic. She forced herself to draw back from him. He followed, hands skimming her ribcage and curving around to her back, holding her close. Uzziel nibbled a line along her jaw and neck.

Ellen splayed her fingers along his chest on the crisp white dress shirt he wore and shoved. “Stop.” Her voice was hoarse, her hands on his chest trembling.

Her push didn’t move him at all.

“Why?” Confusion crossed his face in a ripple of emotion.

“Your vessel.”

“He had no wife or lover when he accepted me.” He bent to her and she turned her head, evading a second kiss.

“I mean, it’s his body, Uz, not yours. To do anything is a violation of him.”

“You mean I need his consent.” His expression went blank and before she could reply, he was smiling, gaze becoming clear and focused once more. “He’d like to get to know you, too. He’s enthusiastic about the prospect.”

“Not surprising since he’s been celibate for a couple years.”

One hand slid lower, pressing her hips closer. “I have permission.”

“From him, yes. Not from me.”

“Oh.” That hand stilled, slowly slid back up. “You…you don’t like me?”

He looked hurt by that and Ellen groaned inwardly. How did she get into these situations? “No, I like you, Uz. I like you very much, but I don’t want to be responsible for causing a holy being to fall from grace. You’re an angel, Uzziel.”

“I could be a man.”

“At what cost to you and your vessel?”

All playfulness bled from his eyes and he released her, stepping slowly away. “Castiel says that pain would be excruciating and eternal.”

“I’d trust him. It’s only by God’s favor that he was restored. If you walked away willingly, would you have that?”

“No.” He stared at the floor a moment, then looked back up at her with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “What if we just…dally?”

“With your exuberant all or nothing personality? I don’t think you’re capable of dallying a few times and leaving. I think you’d have to be in with your entire self and that would mean falling.”

“But I want you, Ellen.”

“You can’t have me that way. We can be friends, Uz, but I won’t let you fall over me.”

“You’d still extend the hand of friendship to me?”

“Yes. What are you, Uzziel?”

“An angel.”

Ellen shook her head. He needed to understand it the way Castiel did. The way Cas said it was an emphasis on all that was holy, righteous, and pure about them. “No, Uzziel, think about it. Don’t take it for granted. You’re an angel of…?”

“The Lord.”

“What does that mean? How does that define you?” She leaned against the table. “You’re an angel of the Lord, a holy, righteous being. You’re so much more than I will ever be. You’re powerful and while you may not have a few human traits, you have the fellowship with other angels. You get to live in heaven. Why would you want to choose to be human? We’re fleeting.”

“God loves humans best.”

“From what I understand, he loves all of his creatures, angels included. You’re loved, Uzziel. What is your created purpose?”

“To serve Him.”

“Would falling to be with me serve God?”

“No, it would be….. It would be serving myself and my own desires.” He blinked several times, then stepped back. “Forgive me, Ellen, I’ve been impertinent and forward towards you. My apologies. My conduct recently has not been the reflection of holiness that it should be. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course.”

“I’m an angel of the Lord. My conduct must reflect that.”

The symbols on the walls flared bright white and then were gone. Ellen blinked several times in an attempt to see properly again. A hand touched her shoulder briefly and the glare from the light was gone.

Castiel was beside her. “You’re both well?” His tone was cautious, gaze curious.

“You found us.” She almost sagged in relief at not being trapped for more than a short while.

“Abby had an idea. I pursued it.”

“I understand how you do it now,” Uzziel said. “We’re holy beings. We were created to serve God’s purpose and when we forget that, it’s easy to forget everything else. You keep that in your mind, don’t you? You live to serve His purpose, whatever that may be.”

Cas nodded. “I did try to tell you.”

“You did.” He drew himself up tall. “I’m ready to return to work, if you believe me ready.”

“Go. I’ll take Ellen home.”

She was home in seconds, Castiel looking about her little house with a curious gaze.

“How did you convince him not to fall,” he asked in an almost nonchalant tone.

“I just had him think through what he was. Wasn’t even sure it would work.”

“Interesting.”

He was gone then and Ellen tried to figure out just how long she’d been gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

The search for Gwen hadn’t gone well. Samuel found himself missing Arlene’s talents in finding people. Gwen was likely using an alias. She wasn’t stupid. She knew how to go off the grid.

The other woman, however, was easy to find. Her parents hadn’t been hunters and Samuel wondered how Neal and Patricia could have been so sloppy as to let them try to hide themselves. The 1977 sacrifice was laughably easy to track, despite having moved several times and to different states. Once he was certain where she was, he tracked down Mia Carys.

Mia was nearly as difficult to find as Gwen. He’d had to search for evidence of her followers and use everything in Neal’s journal to engineer a meeting. Arlene had given him a good start on that before she’d hijacked the files and run off. Sometimes he wondered just how much Arlene knew. How much had she read before stealing his boxes of files?

The woman had agreed to a face-to-face meeting. She was much older than when that picture of her had been taken, but the resemblance to Gwen was just as eerie. This was what Gwen would eventually look like. He wondered why this witch allowed herself to age when she had the powers to stall that.

Samuel held out the information he’d been holding on to in preparation for this day. “I can’t give you Gwen. Her whereabouts are unknown to me, but I can give you an alternative.” He waved the file. “Take it. Open it.”

Slowly, she took it, glanced at the contents.

“The 1977 sacrifice that got away from you.”

Mia stared at him with cool eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Because it was my family who took the kid back.”

A flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “You’re a Campbell then. Samuel Campbell.” She said his name as thought tasting it. “Brave of you to come to me, hunter, after all the trouble your family has caused me and my own. So many decades we’ve tangled.” She handed the file to the woman behind her. “You’ve been watching her?”

“No. Her location just sort of…fell into my lap.”

“What do you want?”

“The first prize he’ll grant once topside.”

“Why should we give that to you?”

He smiled thinly. “Because without her or Gwen, you have to wait another cycle to attempt to raise him. Haven’t you waited long enough?”

“What makes you think I can’t get a sacrifice ready? I’ve managed the last three. One more --”

“You’re down to a group of four women. Makes searching several states more difficult. Four is a far cry from the many followers you had back in the seventies and eighties and even the nineties.”

Her head inclined in acknowledgement of that fact. “Perceptive. I lost quite a few of my people to Lucifer’s followers. His demons. He was persuasive and they were impatient.” She crossed her arms, looking him up and down. He was reminded of how Gwen looked at a person she didn’t trust. Gauging. “One condition.”

“What?”

“I want the location of the woman you used to find me. It’s a loose end. I can’t have that. You understand, yes?”

“Woman?”

She smiled and he felt a thin trickle of sweat snake down his spine. “Don’t deny it. I let you find me, Campbell. Your initial inquiries were hardly subtle. I saw her. I let her close enough to give you what you needed to find me. Who is she and where is she?”

“Her name is Arlene.”

Mia took the folder back from the woman with her and held it out to him. “Jot it all on that folder.”

He hesitated. Arlene was family. She’d been Christian’s wife. He’d had dinner at her table, slept in her house. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that Arlene was no more family than Gwen was. Arlene had married in and she’d betrayed him by taking the files. Samuel wrote what he knew of her whereabouts and ignored the fact that he’d once more crossed over a moral line. What was one more line, after all?

~~~~~~~~~~

Mia Carys watched Samuel Campbell leave. She tapped a finger on the file with the woman’s name. She turned her head, glance flicking to her helper. “Find the woman and deal with her.” The rest of them would follow Samuel, decide the sort of threat he was and eliminate him and any others with him.

“Let’s see how pathetic he thinks we are when three of four women are working him over,” she murmured to herself. 

She’d waited this long, she wasn’t about to share her prize with a Campbell.


	33. Chapter 33

Gwen was cooking, making dinner for both of them, and Sam liked to watch her. She never made cookies or anything like that that Jess had done, but the domestic scene she presented still managed to make him feel peaceful and a little nostalgic in a good way. He felt a calm settle over him as he watched her chop vegetables and stir ingredients together. She had the radio on and was dancing a little as she worked, hips swaying to the music. 

“Sam?”

He turned from the kitchen doorway to face Jo as she came towards him. “Yeah, Jo?”

She proffered a few files held together with a rubber band. “Here. I ran across these while helping mom go through a box. They’re in that range of years you said to look for.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.” Setting it on the table, he removed the rubber band and opened the first folder. It was on a suspected vampire attack. The second was on a Wendigo. The third however…. It was a clipping from a 1989 newspaper, detailing the abduction and murder of a newborn. The baby had been burned alive on an altar. Sam skimmed the rest of the details and glanced at Jo. “Did you read this?”

One hand rested on her stomach. During the three weeks he and Dean had been gone on jobs, Jo had become visibly pregnant. He found it amusing that she’d gone from not needing maternity clothes to all of a sudden needing them. Dean had been ecstatic over that, pointing at her stomach and asking anyone who looked at them, ‘See what I did?’, to which Jo rolled her eyes and replied, ’Yeah, it was all his doing. I wasn’t even there.’ 

She patted her belly. He wondered if she realized she was doing that. “Yeah, I read it. Newborn. Human sacrifice. People are sick.”

“If you see any more like that, grab them out for me?”

“Sure. You think the Campbell’s saved Gwen from being sacrificed?”

“Not sure. It fits, I think. Patricia talked about witches most of Gwen’s life, warned her repeatedly about them. Human sacrifice is something witches do to accomplish their plans. Whatever the Campbells were working on when they unofficially adopted Gwen involved witches. They found hex bags, suspected a coven…. I’m grasping at anything right now just to try to find information for her.”

Reaching out, she picked up the clipping. “You’ll have to interview, find out what exactly this symbol looked like -- if the detective even remembers. Describing it as a ‘symbol of devil worship’ isn’t specific enough. There are hundreds of symbols that could have been used and not all are for demons. It could be for a pagan god, too. The symbol could give us a better way to search. Mom has a friend who investigates ritualistic murders. He’s not FBI, but he has friends, too. He also has access to databases we don’t. Find a picture of it or something and we can bump it over to him for identification. Once we have it identified, we can search for cases where it was displayed. He can help with that, too. Depending on how prevalent the symbol has been, he might have a list already made of dates and places.”

  
“Wait, you have a source?” He put a hand on her arm. “Jo, I could kiss you.”

“But you won’t, because she’s my wife,” Dean said, coming down the stairs. “And Gwen might hurt you.” He stopped beside Jo and took the clipping from her, looking at it as he asked, “What are you wanting to kiss her over?”

He released her arm. “She and Ellen have a source I can use to identify a symbol without bothering Bobby over it.”

He read through the article, making a disgusted face. “Bet that scene smelled delightful. Maybe we won’t hit the barbecue place after all.”

Gwen stepped into the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. “Are you staying, because I didn’t make enough food for four.”

“I’m taking Jo out anyway.” He handed Sam the clipping. “Sounds maybe interesting, but a little too old. ‘89, Sam? I don’t mind cold cases, but anything older that involves rituals like that is usually unsolvable and unfixable. That’s over twenty years. Whatever they were trying to raise is probably raised. You know that.”

“Almost twenty-four and it’s just a side project,” Sam told him. “If it becomes current, I’ll bring it up for discussion.”

“Sounds good.”

As they walked out, he heard Jo ask to go somewhere that served mozzarella sticks. She had a craving for them.

Gwen dished up the food. “Grab some silverware?”

Once they were seated, she reached for the folder. He got to it first, slapping a hand on it and sliding it away. “Nope. We’re going to have a nice dinner with no talk of a cold case.”

“I heard something about witches when you and Jo were talking.”

“You did.” He picked up a napkin. “I’m checking all possible angles for leads on your parents.”

“How is a case from twenty-four years ago related to them? Wouldn’t it need to be thirty-two years ago, as in the year I was born?”

“I’m working on a theory, okay? Give me time to put it together. If I’m right, we could uncover real information and find them, or find her, rather, since Patricia wrote that A., who was probably Aaron your dad, was dead.”

“You have no theory,” she accused with a little amused smile.

“Of course I do.”

Gwen’s smile widened. “No you don’t. You’re giving me a line of b.s.. I can see it on your face, Sam. I know you’re lying, just like I did back in Vegas with the diary.”

“I have a theory,” he insisted, cutting his chicken into pieces.

“Spit it out.”

He laughed. “Okay, it’s more of a vague idea than a theory. The years listed had four years between them. It’s a pattern. Patricia even mentioned something to that effect. The Campbells were working on something involving witches and since Patricia wrote those years in her diary within the entries concerning you, I’m guessing that their case had something to do with that pattern, meaning you and your parents have something to do with it. Now, what if the pattern, for some reason,” sitting back, he spread his arms wide, “continued?” Sam dropped his hands to his lap. “What do witches do?”

“A lot of skuzzy, evil things.”

“One of which is human sacrifice to meet their goals. I’m looking for any case or article in those range of years right to the present that has to do with witches or human sacrifice. Might be a connection, which could lead to why you were targeted and if we find whoever is responsible, we could maybe get closure on the issue of Mia Carys.”

She stared at him a long moment. “No, you were right. That’s a theory. But how do you know I was going to be sacrificed? Maybe whoever they rescued me from was just trying to nab a kid to raise it.”

He quirked a brow at her. “With witches involved?”

“Right. It’s still an assumption, Sam.”

He nodded in agreement. “It is, but I don’t have anything else to go on. If you do, I’d love to hear it.”

Gwen held up her hands in a gesture of defeat. “No theory, no nothing. You have fun trying to hunt that down.”

The conversation ended her interest in the folder and he slipped it into his laptop bag in between helping clean up after dinner. With luck, he’d find something solid and soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

May passed in a blur of activity and long periods of Dean missing Jo while he and Sam were out on jobs. He popped open a beer and turned on the tv, half listening to Sam talking to Gwen on the phone. While they’d be back in a few days, Sam thought she needed a boost since she’d been volunteering to stay behind with Jo. She didn’t have to stay. Dean had made that clear. She didn’t have to, but he appreciated her keeping Jo company. He’d expected her to take a few solo jobs, yet she appeared to have settled back into the sort of routine Sam said she’d had at the Campbell compound -- heavy on research and mundane tasks instead of field work.

In the morning, they had an appointment with a woman named Denise Atwater. She’d been vague on the phone, but her distress was real enough. She’d been given their names by the friend of a friend of a contact of their dad’s and had the money to buy the help she needed: them. Neither he nor Sam had told her they would have done it for free. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? She was proposing to give them half of a sum to start investigating and the other half whenever they finished their investigation with real answers.

It was a rare paying job and they couldn’t pass it up. Watching their cash flow was going to be far more of an ongoing process than it had been. Babies and bases cost money.

Sam concluded his call and grabbed a beer from the cooler. “Gwen said Jo’s making everyone feel her stomach to feel the baby kick. Bobby decided to run errands in town rather than go through that again.”

Dean grinned. Jo had felt the baby move for the first time the night before he and Sam had left. She’d woken him from a sound sleep and they’d waited for over an hour for it to happen again. He’d peered at her stomach so hard he’d given himself a headache, but it had been completely worth it to feel their baby push against his palm. “Middle of the night, she wakes me up by jerking my hand over and putting it on her stomach. Freakiest thing in the world, Sammy. Like something out of ‘Alien’. She says it feels like a fluttering sensation.”

“Yeah, she made me feel her stomach before we left. It was…interesting.”

“I think we’ve got a soccer star in there.” Of course, he knew it might not be feet. It could be hands or, as Ellen said, it could be the kid’s butt sticking out. It hadn’t even been much of a kick -- yet. Dean actually couldn’t wait to really _see_ a hand or foot pressing out. He’d been doing some reading, glancing through the books Jo had gotten from the library. From what he’d read, childbirth was gross, but no more so than any of the gross things he’d witnessed as hunter. Being in the delivery room with her was going to be a piece of cake. Surely it wasn’t any ickier than a shape shifter’s skin?

Sam sat on the other bed and stretched out, pillows behind his back. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Go see Denise Atwater, find out the details, start our sleuthing.”

They got an early start the next day and found her already up and waiting.

“Find out who did this.” Denise twisted a tissue in her hands. Her hotel was on par with the one Dean and Jo had stayed at in Las Vegas -- fancy and, in Dean’s opinion, overpriced.

Dean looked over the details of the papers she had for them. “It was your house they found the body at?”

“My summer house, or rather my family’s summer house. We hadn’t been up in years, not since I was a kid, and I just inherited everything recently. Thought it’d be a good time to check the place out, maybe have it cleaned and repaired and bring my kids up for the summer.” She grimaced. “And it wasn’t just a body, Mr. Winchester. It was a baby. Burned on some sort of weird altar, with this _symbol_ painted on the floor around it.”

“Can you draw what it looked like,” Sam asked, eagerness in his voice.

Wow, Dean thought. He’s raring to go this morning.

“Sure.” She drew it with quick strokes on hotel stationary. “No way I’m forgetting what it looked like. Christ, I’m going to have nightmares for years.”

“Anything else you can tell us, Mrs. Atwater? Initial impressions when you first arrived? Anything at all?” Sam leaned a little closer.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I thought it was a plastic baby doll at first when I looked through the door, but then I opened it and there was still this…smell. Like barbecue almost only rancid, greasy. After all the time that passed, it still stank in there and the room had this feeling. Evil. It felt like evil was there watching me. I had to go outside and even in the sun, I felt it. There.” She swallowed hard, grimacing. “It’s a good thing I didn’t bring my youngest with me. I thought about it. She’s only five though and my mother-in-law wanted to spend time with her.” Her gaze flitted back and forth between them. “Do you have kids? Either of you?”

“My wife’s expecting our first,” Dean said and it seemed to calm her a little. “She’s about five months along.”

“That’s great. That’s really great. Kids are wonderful and babies….” Her chin trembled, tears forming in the corners of her eyes and slipping free. She dabbed at them with a tissue. “I keep thinking about the poor parents who never got that with this baby girl --”

“Mrs. Atwater…Denise,” Sam touched her hand. “What can you tell us about the caretaker? Did you have one?”

“Um…. We did. I remember dad writing out checks to pay him every month and moaning about the cost. He was let go before ‘09, which is when they’re saying it happened. You think he was involved?”

“‘09?” Sam’s brows raised.

“Sam?” Dean saw a flicker of insight in Sam’s eyes and knew he’d made a connection to something.

“You’re sure it was then?”

“Yes, why? They ran an investigation as to where my family was to rule us out.”

“Did they say when in ‘09?”

“Summer. June, July. One of the two.”

Excitement added to that insight. “Do you mind if we look at the place?”

“Please do. Police say they’ve gotten all they can from the scene. Let me give you the keys. If anyone bothers you, tell them to call me. The police are getting nowhere and right now, I don’t care how I get answers, I want them and I want the people who did this taken care of. Use whatever means you choose.” She reached for another tissue. “I don’t care how or when. Solve this. I won’t feel safe bringing my family up here until I know that whoever did this is either behind bars or…no longer in a position to cause trouble.”

They left with cash and the keys, going directly to the summer home.

Denise had been right about the smell and the feel of the house. Something evil had been accessed and if not released, brought one step closer to being released. The room had the feel of something waiting right on the other side of the fabric between their world and hell. Dean supposed the smell had remained because the house had been shut up after the sacrifice. There was a blackened section of ceiling in the center of the living room. The altar had been below it on the wood floor of the long wide living room. It was gone now, but the symbol remained. It wasn’t one he recognized. 

Sam snapped a picture of it. “Glad she brought us in before she called someone to clean the room. I’d expected the symbol to be gone. I’m going to send this to Jo, have her get Ellen’s source on it.”

Dean stared at the symbol. He thought he could actually feel his blood pressure rising when he thought about what had been done here. He could hear Sam talking, but wasn’t paying attention to a single word. “A baby, Sam,” he interrupted. “A newborn. A freakin’ newborn. Sick bastards.” He shook his head.

“Dean.” Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

“What?”

“You need to distance yourself from this. Why don’t you go back to the motel and let me finish up here?”

“You think I’m too emotional?”

“Uh…yeah, a little. You’re balling your hands into fists so hard your knuckles are white.”

Taking a deep breath, and trying to ignore the smell of the place, he relaxed his hands, forcing himself to calm down. “I’m fine. Tell me about that Einstein moment you had back there. What was that all about?”

“I’ve got a few things to check, but it fits a pattern I’ve run across.”

“Run across where? In the Campbell files?”

Sam made a noncommittal noise. “Go back to the motel, Dean. Call Jo and check in with her. Have a good long talk.”

“She’s fine. I don’t need --”

He turned from studying the symbol on the floor. “Yes, you do. You need to reassure yourself that she’s safe at home. I understand and, really, there’s nothing here that needs both of us.”

The case was just as cold as Dean had thought it’d be, with no leads aside from the symbol and whatever they could get from it. Within a couple days of poking, they were regretfully informing Denise Atwater that there was nothing more they could do at present, but that they’d keep looking. They packed up and while Sam was loading the car, Dean’s phone rang.

The area code was familiar, the number wasn’t. He knew the state the call was coming from even if he wasn’t entirely sure who was calling. Dean rejected the call and deleted the voicemail that had been left. Fifteen calls and fifteen messages and he didn’t want to answer and find out who it was.

Tension dragged a heavy hand along his back. It could be a legit job from someone he didn’t know or…. He took a deep breath. Or it was his past trying to screw-up his present and he wasn’t about to chance that happening. He had a good life with Jo. It was working and it was working well. There was no reason to go backwards.

“Who was that,” Sam asked, stepping inside.

“Wrong number.”

Sam reached for the last bag and stood up tall. “Awful lot of those the past couple days,” he observed with a concerned tilt to his brow.

“Yeah.” He slid the phone into his pocket. “Guy won’t believe he can’t reach who he wants at this number.”

He nodded. “I had a woman do that once. Insisted I was keeping her man from talking to her.”

Maybe it was time for a new phone and new number. He should have done that the day he’d decided to pursue Jo to begin with. He’d thought he’d been starting with a clean slate. Dean suspected he’d been wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~

While Sam’s idea was possible, Gwen had been wondering more and more if Arlene had solid information. After all, the way she’d talked to Gwen about the files, like there was something there that would tell Gwen everything….

Gwen glanced through the papers on the table in front of her. “I hate cursed objects.”

Jo didn’t look up from the computer screen. “You don’t have to keep staying to help me, Gwen.”

Jo was deep in the early stages of a case. She’d chosen a locket as her first search and was busy enough that Gwen thought she could slip away to see Arlene and Jo wouldn’t even notice. “Hey, would you mind if I took off for a few days?”

She glanced up. “Nope. Just don’t let on to Dean that you shirked your guard duties.”

“Jo!”

“It’s true. He wants someone to guard me and make sure I behave myself instead of running off on a case.” She looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen. Ellen was in there making lunch for the three of them. “Mom’s here most days when she isn’t at Bobby’s working on the database, so really, there’s no reason you can’t go work a case or two.”

“I don’t have a case, but I might have a lead on my birth mother.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Go.” She made a shooing motion with one hand.

“Okay. I thought I’d fly out to the coast and either drive or fly back. If I flew back, I’ll probably get back before Dean and Sam. I don’t think it’ll take long to talk to my possible source.”

“Where’s the source?”

“Maine.”

“Have fun.” Her attention returned to the computer screen.

Gwen caught a late afternoon flight out. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam watched Dean as they drove. Something was wrong. He was rejecting the calls that came in and getting moodier as the day went on. Sam was almost afraid to consider what that might mean. Dean had only moped in the past couple years for one reason: Lisa Braeden.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text, his lips thinning into a tight, irritated line as he drew it back out. His expression shifted into one of confusion. “Sam, do we know a Cheryl Campbell?”

He thought a moment. “Yeah, she’s another relative, more distant than the others. She’s a teenager, about fifteen…. No, she’d be seventeen by now. Her last name isn’t actually Campbell though. It’s Breckridge. Why?”

“Did I meet her?”

“I don’t think so. I only remember meeting her twice in over a year. She mostly stayed with her parents in Texas.”

“Then can you think of a reason why she would be texting me?”

“Maybe because between you, me, and Gwen, you’re the only one still has your original number? What’s it say?”

“Comp. W.O.S.S.O.S. Please come. Gwe.”

“Gwe,” he repeated with raised brows.

“That’s what it says.” Dean spelled it out. “Like she was trying to type ‘Gwen’ and couldn’t finish. I’m gonna text her back.”

Cheryl didn’t reply.

Sam thought about the text. “Comp could mean compound. It’s around the time I met her the first time. She could be visiting. We’re not too far away from the compound. Maybe three or four hours. We could go check it out. The SOS part is clear enough.”

“She impress you as the kind of kid who’d text something like that as a joke?”

“No. She impressed me as the kind of kid who’d sound the alarm on trouble if she could.”

“So the S.O.S. could be real. Or it could be a trap.”

“Why would Samuel trap us?”

Dean shrugged. “Well, we both _have_ threatened his life and ruined his plans to raise mom. To be honest, I think old Samuel is a little unhinged.” He tapped his phone on his thigh several times. “I am intrigued though. Hang on.” He dialed. “Jo…. No, it didn’t pan out…. Half pay, more if we end up solving it someday…. How did you know it was a baby sacrifice?….” His glance slid to Sam. “Right. I’ll tell you about it when we get back, but we’re taking a short detour. Got a weird text from someone we think is at the Campbell compound, so we’re…. Uh-huh…. Hey, is Gwen okay?…. No, Sam wanted to make sure…. Yes, I’ll be careful….Love you, too.” He hung up. “You told her about the baby?”

“Dean, she asked if the symbol was the same one matching the clipping she found from ‘89. You remember, the one about a newborn being sacrificed? Then she asked if this was a newborn, too. Was I not supposed to answer her? We hiding case details from her now?”

“Is it the same symbol?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m still waiting on a callback from a detective that was on the case back then. He’s on vacation and won’t be back for another few days.”

“If it’s the same, then your side project --”

“Could be current. Or relatively so. If I see a connection in the symbols, I’ll bring everything to you and we can look at it together.”

“Good. I’m not asking you to hide things from Jo, just…. Let me tell her about the cases like this, okay?”

“She can handle it. Jo’s a big girl, Dean. She’s not as delicate as you think.”

“I know she can handle it, but I don’t want her getting upset. If she gets upset, it could affect the baby. We need to have a healthy baby and a stress-free pregnancy and birth.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, okay. I get it. I do. First pregnancy, first baby, first time parents. You’re both a little cautious, but Dean, women have been giving birth for centuries in emotional and physical conditions far more harsh than what Jo has. Relax. I don’t think hearing about a few human sacrifices, baby or adult, is going to send her or the baby into distress. She’s been looking at cases like this for years.”

“When you have a wife and she’s pregnant, we’ll revisit this discussion. Then you can tell me to relax.”

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll leave it to you to tell Jo anything about our cases.”

“Fine. Pull over. I’m driving.”

They made it to the compound in record time thanks to Dean’s lead foot. 

Dean stopped the Impala at the gate. It was open, with no sign of the guard normally ever-present. The light above was off. “That gate isn’t ever _not_ guarded. This look like a good development to you?”

“No.” Sam rolled down the window and peered up at the light, squinting. “I think the bulb is broken. Back up a little.” When Dean had done so, Sam got out of the car and stepped slowly to the fixture, scanning the ground. Sure enough, there was glass on the ground. He looked around the drive. Aside from the car engine, the area was quiet. He returned to the car. “No activity that I can hear. Cut the engine.”

They left the car there and went in slow, guns drawn, finding nothing in the outbuildings. There were two vehicles parked by the door of the main building, tires slashed. The door was busted open, the frame around it splintered. The overhead lights flickered, the building as gloomy as it had ever been in Sam’s memory. He smelled gun oil, dust, cooking odors, burned coffee, and beneath it all, the rank stench of blood, death, and a whiff of sulfur.

He heard a soft curse from Dean as they stepped into the main room. Bodies lay sprawled on the floor, adults and children both. It looked like they’d been gathered together in one area, some tortured, and other simply killed. Eleven in all. Sam went from body to body, studying them, noting that some appeared to have been dead longer than others. He also noticed something peculiar. None of them except Cheryl, the girl who’d texted Dean, appeared to have struggled even during what had to have been excruciating torture.

“Dean, this is fresh.” He touched his fingers to Cheryl’s neck. Her skin was still warm and the blood beneath her body hadn’t begun to dry. A cell phone was beneath the table beside her and he reached for it. An iphone. He opened it. Her contact list was open to Dean’s name. He shut the screen down and pocketed the phone to look at later. “I think whoever did this just left.” 

“Not all are fresh,” he replied. “They were here awhile.” Dean looked over the bodies. “Where’s Samuel?”

They’d cleared the building coming in except for Samuel’s office. It had been locked. They headed there next, Sam forcing the door.

Samuel was on the floor behind the desk, his chest and stomach ripped open, one hand nearly touching a picture of Mary. There were droplets of blood across the picture.

“Well, I guess Gwen doesn’t need to worry about Samuel finding her anymore,” Dean said with a sigh.

“Guess not.”

“You think he went up or down?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but with all he was into his second time around, I suspect it was down.”

Dean’s lips curled. “Good.” He stepped from the office and into the hall. “Sam, how many more of our relatives are there? I mean left in the states.”

“That I know of? Cheryl’s parents and Arlene, and for all I know, Cheryl’s parents are one of the couples out there on the floor. I never met them.”

“Think about this. Someone came in and wiped out the Campbell branch. Twelve people, the adults trained from childhood. They took on a well-organized family of hunters and came out on top. You see any signs of a struggle except from the girl? No gunfire, no nothing, like those people stood there and just accepted they were going to die.”

“It’s a little disturbing.”

Dean nodded. “Look for hex bags. You start at one end, I’ll start at the other. They got the drop on the Campbells somehow. No way it wasn’t witchy.”

They found three hex bags.

“Dean, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“You and me both. Let’s get these bodies taken care of, call Gwen out here to help, and clear out what we can. Have Gwen bring a moving truck, one of the big ones. We’ll take what we can, leave the rest.” He looked at the office door. “If we’re the last, this is all ours, right? That makes sense to you?”

“Ours and Gwen’s,” he agreed. He doubted there was anyone to really contest if they took everything in the building and around it.

“Somehow I don’t see her wanting to move back here. You call her, I’ll get started with the bodies.”

Sam looked at the hex bags, neutralized now and no longer a threat to anyone. He wondered if this was connected to something Samuel had been working on or if the past had caught up to the Campbell family regarding that case Patricia and Neal had been working on when they’d saved Gwen. He suspected either or both together. Samuel had wanted Gwen for something and the last part of Cheryl’s text had included most of Gwen’s name. There was a reason for that, but what?

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen spent the night in a motel close to Arlene’s mother’s house. She woke late and had a leisured lunch before heading to the house. She parked her rental car on the street rather than in the drive and ended up pounding on the front door a good five minutes before Arlene would even open it to look at her.

“Arlene, please talk to me. What has you so spooked?”

Arlene reached out and took Gwen’s arm, tugging her inside the house, her glance straying to the high fence that shielded the street from view before she closed the door. Gwen recognized a serious case of paranoia brewing in Arlene. The way she looked at the street. The way she hugged herself. Something had her on edge. “Fine. But after this, forget I exist. I don’t want them coming here after me and mama.”

“I understand.”

Arlene sighed. “Okay, you know I’m good at finding people? Well, Samuel asked me to find someone and when I did, I got curious why he wanted to find a witch, when it was obvious he wasn’t hunting. He was wanting a meeting, wanted to have a good start on where the witch was before he really needed the information. We don’t ally ourselves with witches, we hunt them like we do everything else. It didn’t make sense. The clues he gave me…. I picked the lock on his office and looked through some of the boxes he’d taken from my house.” She shook her head. “I stole a couple things that I could fit in my jacket, things I thought you might be interested in, and shoved them in boxes at home, then brought the whole mess to you, minus the boxes in his office.”

“There are still boxes there?”

“Several.”

“Who did he want you to find?”

“He’s involved with a coven, Gwen. Think about it. The secrecy. The demon deal. Witches. I think it’s all part of a very real, very dangerous coven. The man is insane! He thinks he’s going to raise his daughter from the dead. I think…. I think he was going to give _you_ to them, to the coven, to somehow broker that deal.”

“Why me?”

“You’re not who you think you are.”

“I know I’m not a Campbell. I know my real parents were Aaron and Mia Carys. What else can you tell me?” 

Arlene blinked. Her face seemed to pale even further. “You found your birth certificate.”

“I did. You knew it was there?”

“I knew it was in one of those boxes. There should be three with pictures and things from when you were a kid.”

Gwen nodded. “We found one. Why do you think Samuel was going to give me to them?”

“Because it’s a pattern, Gwen. Your birth day and time. The people Samuel is involved in have waited a very long time to free their god. They’ll do anything, kill anyone. You need to stay as far away from Samuel and anything remotely looking like ritual murders for the rest of this year if you want to stay alive. Once they get a bead on you, that’s it. They’ll get at you. I think you were supposed to be the sacrifice they needed and he thought he could cut a deal to get his daughter back by offering you.”

“Why are you so afraid if you think I’m the sacrifice?”

She glanced at the door. “Because I think they saw me. I didn’t cover my own tracks as well as I should have. I think….” She licked her lips. “I think they’ve been following me the past couple weeks and Samuel knows I know something. I’ve changed my cell number, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Take your mother and move.”

“No. I won’t be run out of my house. My mother’s house.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “You need to leave, Gwen. You need to leave now. If they come for me, I don’t want you here to be caught by them. I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

There was no changing Arlene’s mind or making her talk. Whatever details she knew, she wasn’t about to let them slip from her lips. Gwen sat in the car for awhile, trying to think of a way to make Arlene tell her what else she knew. She decided to get dinner and think about a new strategy.

It was late, twilight passed, before Gwen returned to the house and when she reached it, she sat stunned, a little knot of sick dread in her belly. Slowly, she got out of the car and stood like the others on the street, watching. Her hands held on to the driver’s door.

The house was on fire, men working to put out the blaze, but even Gwen’s untrained eye could see it was too late to try to save anyone. They were making an effort for people that were already dead, a hunch confirmed when two people near her started talking. When the fire trucks had arrived, there’d been the sound of screaming from inside the house. 

The water only seemed to make the flames burn higher. The roof collapsed in a whoosh of spark and flame and Gwen gasped, hand covering her mouth. Her legs trembled and she sank back into the car, closing the door. 

No way Arlene had gotten out. She wouldn’t have left her mother. 

Her phone began to ring and she reached for it. “Sam.” She was grateful to hear his voice right them, calm if a bit insistent.

“Gwen, Dean and I need you to come to the Campbell compound. Bring one of those big moving trucks.”

She choked on a sudden rush of tears. “Sam, I can’t --”

“What’s wrong?”

She wiped at her eyes with a hand. “Arlene’s dead. I just saw her a few hours ago and she’s dead. I’m sitting in my rental car and that house is on fire. Her mom’s house. She and her mom both. They’re dead.”

“Wait, what do you mean you saw her? Where are you?” She could hear the concern in his voice and it made her tear up even more.

“Maine. I flew out last night.”

She heard him take a deep breath. “Okay, does anyone know you’re there?”

“Jo and Ellen --”

“No,” he interrupted. “I mean…has anyone identified you as having been there earlier?” Urgency colored his words.

“I don’t --” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Get away from the house and the fire. Last thing you need is someone asking questions. I realize you liked Arlene, but if she’s dead, the only thing you can do is make sure you don’t end up that way too.”

“Sam?”

“Please, Gwen,” his voice dropped to a near whisper, “honey.” 

The endearment, a thing he’d never said before, knocked a bit of the shock from her. Had Sam really just called her that? She’d heard Dean call Jo all sorts of endearments, but Sam had never done that with her. Why do it now? She sat up a little straighter, paying closer attention to his words. 

“Drive straight to the compound. Look for anyone who might be following you. Be careful.”

She pressed the lock on the car doors and glanced around the scene. There was one person watching her, staring at her like she knew Gwen somehow. A chill gripped her and she shivered. “Sam, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Let’s just say Samuel can’t possibly hurt you anymore, but I’m not so sure you’re any safer with him gone. Get here as soon as you can. Stop and call me every hour.”

Every hour? What was going on?

Sam wouldn’t tell her. Gwen ran by the motel, grabbed her bag and checked out. Within an hour of leaving the scene of the fire, she was on the road, heading towards the compound. When she’d left, she’d never thought she’d step foot inside that fence again, yet here she was going right to it.


	34. Chapter 34

“How long did it take you to discover Uzziel’s weakness?”

Balthazar sat up. “Awhile. He was a tough nut to crack. Why?”

Castiel tapped the papers he’d curled into a tube against his leg. He hoped he didn’t regret taking Abby’s suggestion to involve Balthazar in this. “Four out of every ten who signed up for the AMP are having the same trouble Uzziel did.”

He whistled low. “Almost an epidemic. You’ve got your hands full.”

“Would you be willing to find their weaknesses so we can deal with them?”

“Some will be unable to cope.”

“Are you able to tell who?”

He peered closely at Castiel with narrowed eyes and Cas stared right back. “Are you proposing to release me if I cooperate, Cassy?”

“Think of it more as a work release program. Good behavior will give you privileges. Cooperation gains you good will. You’ll be initially accompanied by several guards, but that number is subject to change depending on how you behave. Eventually, you could be released, able to move about again without guards, though I have to tell you, it’ll be a long time coming due to your behavior in recent days.”

“The trust must be rebuilt. I understand. So…how are they looking at you now? The others. Are they more respectful? Are they taking you seriously?”

His nod was slow. Balthazar had been right on all of that. Sentencing him for his shenanigans and troublemaking had quashed potential trouble from others immediately, not to mention he’d been correct about Uzziel. “Will you do this or not?”

“Is it important that their weaknesses are revealed?”

“You know it is.”

He slowly stood from his chair. “Yes, I can tell who has the strength to conquer their weakness. For example…. Abigael.” His brows rose. “She was infatuated with you. Had a little crush that made her long to be near you wherever you were. Earth, heaven. She’s one tough cookie underneath that shy librarian exterior. I watched her turn her infatuation into a strength, tempering her urges, and learning to turn her feelings into something you would accept while being with you every hour. She still wants to be near you, by the way, but she has balance now…and she’s a credit to your teaching. Your cluelessness over her infatuation likely aided her recovery from weakness.”

He ignored the part on Abigael. He’d known she was loyal and that she’d had a crush on him. Dean had pointed it out long ago. Castiel uncurled the papers and held them out. “The names.”

Balthazar took the pages, studied them, one finger sliding down each page. When he’d glanced through all of them, he turned back to the first page, indicating seven names. “Start with these seven. Remove them from the AMP immediately. They have little control and if they’re assigned below, it wouldn’t be pleasant. I know those seven. They’re weak scholars who should remain in their original departments. They’ve not the ability to overcome and adapt as you and Abigael.”

“You’re certain without seeing them?”

“I know them. _You_ came to _me_ , Castiel. Will you trust my judgment or not? If not, then you’ve wasted my time and yours both.”

Taking the top page and leaving the rest for Balthazar to study, Castiel left to do some digging on the seven. He’d discover in what capacity Balthazar knew them and learn about the seven himself. If he could figure out how Balthazar was seeing the weaknesses, perhaps they wouldn’t need him at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was waiting at the gate when Gwen arrived. He closed the gate behind her and locked it, then walked towards the car.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes a moment. She’d been driving for hours with only a couple bathroom breaks and drive through places for food. Exhaustion was beginning to claim her. She wanted to sleep for a good solid twelve hours. As Sam had instructed, she’d called him every hour on the hour. Gwen unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. Sam immediately enfolded her in an embrace, pressing her head to his chest. 

Gwen leaned against him for a moment, but when she tried to pull away, Sam resisted, holding on to her tighter. “Sam? I can’t breathe. Let up a little.”

“Sure. Right. Sorry.” He put an arm around her. “Let’s go in.” They walked into the building. 

She frowned, noticing the busted doorframe and the faint smells of blood and decay. “What’s going on,” she asked upon reaching the main room.

Dean was at a table, putting papers and folders in a box. Several other boxes were around him, taped and labeled. He looked at her. “”I’m sorry to hear about the fire.”

“Arlene knew something or someone was coming after her. Told me to leave. Said she didn’t want my blood on her hands. Are you two going to tell me what’s going on? Why is there blood on the floor? And the smell? Where is everyone?” There should at least be a guard outside and someone inside to take any calls that came in.

His sigh was heavy and he finished with the box, closing, taping, and labeling it. “We walked in to a massacre. Twelve people. Three kids, one teenager, and eight adults. Samuel was one of them. Bodies are out back. We waited for you. Thought you might have a goodbye or two to make.”

“I said my goodbyes when I left and none of them cared.”

“What about Cheryl?”

Gwen shook her head. “Sam knew her and her parents as well as I did.”

“I never met her parents,” Sam said, his arm tightening around her. She was grateful for that strength against her. “Just her.”

“I’ll help you burn them if you want --”

Dean crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “I’ll take care of it. You and Sam go turn in your car and pick up a truck. I’d like to scrounge anything we can, take it back with us. No one else is going to do it. We might as well take what’s here. After all, we’re family, right?” He crossed one ankle over the other, shifting his weight. “There’s a lot to scrounge. Recent files, supplies of all kinds. Sam and I did a quick inventory while we waited for you.” His stare slid down her and back up slowly. She had the feeling he was seeing just how exhausted she was. “Then you can sleep while Sam and I work. Eat a hot meal, take a shower. You can use all three.”

“I can work.” She smothered a yawn with one hand. “Just pour some coffee down me and tell me what you want me to do.”

“No. You saw Arlene’s mother’s house in flames with them presumably still in it.” 

“Presumably?”

“We’ll monitor the papers and news, see what the investigation there turns up. Ellen’s on it already. She thought she might fly out there. Sam called her and Jo as soon as he talked to you. You don’t know for sure Arlene was in there.”

“Dean, witnesses heard screaming. She wouldn’t have left her mother.”

He nodded in acknowledgment of that fact. “Unless her mother wasn’t alive. If her mother was dead and she had a chance to escape she would have. Arlene was smart. Maybe the screaming wasn’t her.” 

“Maybe it was.”

He came forward. “You’re exhausted. You drove straight through here and, admit it or not, this here?” He gestured around them. “Is going to affect you when you start thinking about it. You knew these people like Sam and I didn’t. Worked with them, relaxed with them. They were family to you for your life until recent. You need some downtime to process this and grieve a little.”

“You can work, I can work.” But she wasn’t so sure about that. She’d probably drop the first box she tried to carry.

“I slept already and Sam napped between your calls. You need rest.”

“Dean’s right.” Sam’s arm moved, his hand sliding along her back, curving on her shoulder and gently squeezing. “We’ll change the car for a truck, grab some food, and you can shower and sleep awhile. You need to recharge, Gwen. There’s a lot to do and you need to be at the top of your game.”

“And right now I’m not.” She crossed her arms. “Fine. You have a point. Both of you. I’ll rest.”

One side of Dean’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Even Supergirl takes a break every now and then.”

By the time the tasks were done, she was nearly asleep on her feet. Sam guided her to a cot in one room and gave her shoulders a thorough rub that left her sliding into sleep before he’d even stood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as he could after Gwen arrived, Dean headed into the nearest town and got a new phone and number. When he called Jo to tell her, she asked what prompted the switch.

“It was time. Tell everyone for me, okay?”

“Sure. How’d it go at the compound?”

He groaned. “That’s a story all in itself. We’re going to be gone a bit longer than I’d planned. Make some room. We’re bringing back a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Like everything. Whatever we can carry with us.”

They talked for awhile longer and when Dean hung up, he felt centered and ready to work. For days, they packed up the compound, trusting Gwen’s judgment on what would be the best items to take, slowly filling the truck. By the end of the week, they were ready save a few boxes that would need last minute additions in the morning.

Dean stretched out in one chair. Gwen had gone to bed nearly an hour earlier. He motioned in the direction of the room with the cot, keeping his voice low. “She okay?”

Sam set his cup down. “I think so. The two she’d wanted to kill were here, so right now that seems to be outweighing any grief over the others.”

Sort of like with them and Samuel’s death. He thought it was sad in a way to be glad their grandfather had died a violent painful death. “How close was she to Arlene?”

“She’d known her for a long time. I guess Christian met her on a job, brought her back, and she was part of the family since then. Gwen says he fell hard for her on sight.”

Dean snorted. “I find it hard to believe that dick loved anyone.” His new phone rang. It was Ellen. Dean listened and when he hung up, he looked over at Sam, noting that Sam seemed tired, smothering a yawn. Both of them should take a cue from Gwen and take some rack time. “That was Ellen. She says don’t count Arlene as dead just yet. Only two bodies recovered from the scene, both female, and both elderly. No way anyone would mistake Arlene for elderly, even from bones. Sounds like maybe she got the drop on whoever came after them and either started the fire to cover up something hinkey or the house was already on fire when she escaped it.”

“Going by what Arlene told Gwen, the second woman was likely a witch. So…Arlene is out there somewhere.” Sam nodded. “Good news.”

“It is. Listen, why don’t you go rest awhile? All that’s left is the last few boxes and we’ll pack those right before we leave in the morning.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He waited until quiet descended on the main room, then called for Castiel. He had a question he hoped Cas would answer to ease their minds. Or his mind rather.

“Dean.” He looked more disheveled than usual, his shirt wrinkled, tie askew, and coat smudged with dirt. His hair stuck up in different directions.

“Cas. Looking kind of rough today. You get into a tussle?”

He made a noise of impatience. “What do you want?”

With a glance towards the hallway, he asked, “Can you confirm that Arlene Campbell is alive?”

“I’m in the middle of testing the other angels.”

“Testing the other angels? What, is it finals week up there at Heaven U?”

“It’d take awhile to explain. Do you wish me to discover her location?”

“No, just confirm she’s alive and that she was what we thought her to be and nothing nasty that’ll bite us in the ass later.” He didn’t think Arlene was anything except a woman who’d married into the Campbell family, but with witches running around doing extensive damage, it’d be best to receive a heavenly confirmation on that. It’d be terrible to discover Arlene had been a part of it all along and had been leading them towards information as part of a trap.

Castiel sighed. “Wait here.” He disappeared from view.

“Where the hell else am I going to go in the seconds he’s gone,” he asked thin air.

He reappeared. “She’s alive and as far as I’m aware, Arlene Campbell is who you thought her to be. The wife of a dead hunter, good at finding people and information, and nothing sinister that should be watched out for.”

“I had to ask. We’ve got serious witch trouble here.”

“Yes. This building reeks of spells and demons.” One brow twitched.

“Did we miss any hex bags?”

“I suspect you would have known it by now if you had.” He winked from view again and was back just as quickly. “No hex bags missed. I really am in the middle of something, Dean.”

“Right. Have fun with exams.” It was good to know that Arlene had escaped. Maybe some day they’d run into her again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen watched Sam close the back of the truck. They’d pretty much looted what they could, though Dean was right. Who was left to stop them?

She was puzzled still by that endearment Sam had uttered the other day. He hadn’t repeated it or said anything more about it. It wasn’t like him to call her pet names of any kind. That was more Dean and Jo’s thing. “Why did you call me ‘honey’ the other day on the phone?”

He paused, hands stilling in his task. “I knew it’d get you moving because you wouldn’t be expecting it. It focused you on me and not on what you were seeing.”

“You didn’t mean it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He was carefully not looking at her, double checking that the back was locked up. “With what we’d just seen and dealt with here, and then your news about the fire….” He turned to face her. “I care about you, Gwen, and I don’t have the best of luck with women staying alive once I care about them. I was….” He swallowed hard. “I was terrified every hour until you called and until you were right here with us. To be honest, I’m _still_ terrified. There’s something going on and….” He tilted his head back, gaze moving across the sky. “I’m fighting the same sort of behavior Dean’s been struggling with with Jo. I want to lock you up at base and keep you safe there.” His attention turned to the ground then, fists balling and shoving into his jeans pockets. “You’d hate that, I know. I always lose the woman I care about. I don’t want to lose you.”

Stepping close, she slid her arms around his waist. “I appreciate you not cave-manning me. I care about you too, Sam.”

Her feelings had grown deeper than that. Gwen was falling hard for Sam Winchester and she suspected everyone around them knew it. She could handle his past and all she’d learned about it. The only thing she wasn’t sure about was his reaction to whatever they eventually learned about _her_ past. Gwen had been considering the possibilities more and more and was very afraid of what could turn up about her parents. Maybe it would be best to follow Castiel’s advice and not even look for it. After all, he _had_ said she wouldn’t like what they found. He’d had a reason for saying that and the only thing she could think of to explain it made her afraid the truth would pull Sam from her. 

~~~~~~~~~~

With the truck hurriedly unpacked and boxes and other items littering the house and garage, Dean thought they should turn their attention to the fire at Arlene’s mom’s house and the witch attack at the compound. It needed to be worked like a case and Jo and Sam agreed. Gwen was the only hold out, not giving an opinion one way or another, a sure sign that something was bothering her. She was no more inclined to keep her opinions to herself than Jo was. Maybe she was finally grieving a little for those people she’d known.

“So what do we have?” Dean stepped back from the cork wall of the upstairs office and turned. They had a map and a few other items tacked up, the bare bones of a case wall.

“You mean besides heartburn from those mozzarella sticks earlier?” Jo grimaced, pressing hand to her chest.

“You’re the one just had to have them,” Dean reminded her. Normally she wouldn’t touch mozzarella sticks, but now she wanted them all the time, with extra marinara sauce, and every time, they gave her heartburn.

“They tasted so good going down, too.” She reached for a pad of paper and pen.

Gwen sat in the chair beside her. She was fresh from a shower and in pajamas, her hair wet and braided. “Arlene said Samuel had her track down a witch. He wanted a meeting.”

“There were hex bags at the compound.” Sam slid his chair closer to Gwen. 

The arrangement of chairs, three on one side of the table facing him, made Dean feel a little like a teacher facing a class.

He watched the two closely. Since the compound, Sam was even more protective of Gwen. He found it a little amusing that Sam was following the same path Dean himself had trod. The protective urges, the initial hesitation to pursue the woman he was interested in, and now his feelings deepening. He prayed it wouldn’t end in some sort of disaster.

“Arlene knew Samuel wanted to raise his daughter.” Gwen picked up a pencil and a separate pad of paper. “She thought he was going to offer the witch me as a sacrifice to somehow make that happen.”

Jo paused in writing. “Were they trying to raise a powerful demon who might be able to do that?”

“A god she said. I don’t know which one. She didn’t say, only that they’d waited a long time to make it happen.”

“Could be any of them. Anything else?” Dean set his beer bottle on the table.

“Yeah.” Gwen drew one leg up and rested her chin on her knee. “She said I was picked because it’s a pattern. My birth day and time.”

Sam sucked in a noisy breath at that, but didn’t say anything, so Dean asked, “You said Arlene thought the witch was watching her?”

“And not twelve hours later that house was on fire. Looks like she was right.”

“Cheryl texted your name. Well, most of it. All but the ‘n’ on the end.” Dean rested his hands on the table and leaned on them. “That’s something. Warning to you maybe? Hey, you know what W.O.S. means?”

“Sure. Witch on site. A quick abbreviation. We had several for all possible emergencies. With texting becoming popular, it was something we started to be with the times.”

“Smart.” Approval shone in Jo’s eyes. “I like that idea. We should totally do that here.”

Sam stared at the table top, lips moving and no sound coming out. He’d obviously connected something, but whether or not he had it firm enough to share was another matter. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Sam?”

“A pattern. I think I….” Excitement slid across his face and disappeared, replaced by determination. His attention turned to Gwen. “How did Arlene know any of that? Where did she get the information?”

She raised her chin from her knee. “She said she looked through the boxes and things in Samuel’s office.”

“Something in the last of those boxes should have the information,” Jo concluded.

“Boxes we now have in our possession.” Dean allowed a little smile to blossom. Maybe things were turning around. “What don’t we know?”

“Who Mia and Aaron were exactly.” Jo set her pen down. “We know they did research and they were Gwen’s birth parents, but nothing else. No real names.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “We don’t know if the witches now connect to what happened in the past or if it’s two separate events. There are grounds for a possible connection in my opinion. Arlene mentioned birth date and time, which means not only did she see Gwen’s birth certificate, she saw whatever Samuel had on the witches and based her conclusion on that information.” He sounded more than a little smug at that, indicating to Dean that Sam really had connected something. “We don’t know why Cheryl texted Gwen’s name or what exactly gave Arlene the information. File, journal, we don’t know.”

“What ties it all together to make sense? What could bring it all together?” Getting up, Jo stretched, twisting and turning, hands on her lower back.

“If the witches _are_ the connection.” Sam didn’t say it like it was a mere possibility, but rather as though he was sure of it for some reason. “I can add birth date and time to my search criteria. Witches, sacrifices, four year cyle --”

“What if none of it is connected?” Gwen’s voice was harsh. “What if it’s all separate? Coincidence? What if I was taken as a baby to hurt my parents? It worked, they died. Neal and Patricia took me to raise me out of respect and kindness. What if the four year cycle mentioned wasn’t connected to me and my parents, but was just a case Neal and Patricia had going on at the same time? What if Samuel stumbled back on the same witches and he thought he could raise Mary and just needed a sacrifice, no special thought into it? He had weird ideas on what was actually considered family. What if Arlene read wrong and assumed just like we’re doing?”

“But what if Arlene was right?” Jo returned to her chair. “Gwen, you said yourself she was good at finding people and information. If she was that good, she wouldn’t make that mistake when it concerned the life of someone she cared about. What if it’s all connected, every last bit of it? The case they had back then and you. Your birth day and time. The four year cycle. Human sacrifices --”

“But it’s assumption to begin with that I was part of some plot as a baby. Simple possible explanation is that someone targeted my parents because of a case, whatever it was, not necessarily the witches, and it was revenge.”

Dean studied her. She wasn’t liking the idea of some plot hatched way back when she was a baby. He didn’t blame her. Hearing things like that and realizing they were probably true was never fun. He and Sam both knew about that. “We work on assumption much of the time anyway. You know that, and after looking at the other diaries Patricia Campbell left, I highly doubt she would have mentioned any of that in the same entries unless there was a connection. You’ve read them, too. You know that. You’re connected, whether you like it or not.”

She was fighting the notion, shaking her head, looking more upset by the second.

“Let’s look through the boxes we found in Samuel’s office, try to find whatever it was gave Arlene that information. They were the last boxes we packed, so they should be the ones we put in the extra room up here. Sam and I will follow up on the Atwater case, which could connect to another cold case, then start looking deeper into the four year theory. We’ll keep an eye out for witches, hex bags, and anything in the news that could concern any of that.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll try the detective from the ‘89 case again. He should be back by now and depending on what he says, I’ll go back to Ellen’s source.”

Gwen got up and hurried down the stairs.

“One of you want to go after her,” Dean asked, standing straight again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam got up, intending on following Gwen. He wasn’t sure why she’d become upset so quickly, and exactly what over. “I’ll go.”

Jo shook her head. “No, you guys stay put. Keep reasoning this out. I’ll talk to her. I could use a pee break anyway.”

He waited approximately a minute before following her, standing at the open screen door. Gwen and Jo were on the porch swing and he hesitated to go out.

“I’m tired of all of it, Jo. I mean, do I really want to know what happened when I was a baby? It was thirty-two years ago. How could what happened back then connect to anything current? It’s all speculation.”

Maybe once he would have said similar words, but he knew now that witches, demons, and all sorts of creatures had patience when implementing their plans. They’d wait centuries, so thirty-two years was actually nothing.

He saw Jo nod her head in agreement and her question was nearly too low to hear. “What is it you’re afraid we’ll find?”

Sam could kick himself. Of course. She had fear all over her.

Gwen was quiet a minute. “What if my parents were evil? I mean really, unapologetically evil? What if they weren’t what the Campbell family thought? Mom…Patricia…. She always talked about witches and how you never knew they were there, like it had been a personal betrayal. What if…. What if my birth parents were evil? Jo, I’d lose Sam. He already has issues about thinking he’s half monster and if he thought I had evil in me somewhere --”

He did have issues with that and she knew his reasons, though she hardly agreed with his conclusions. But to assume that he’d think she was evil if Mia and Aaron turned out to be so? It was ridiculous. Where had she gotten that idea? He knew Gwen and knew her well. She wasn’t evil and while she’d been deceived before, she was hardly evil inside.

“Stop.” Jo held up a hand. “Stop right there. Don’t borrow trouble. Sam knows the difference between adults choosing evil and innocent babies. You’re a good person, Gwen, raised by two people who appear to have been good people as well. You aren’t your birth parents no matter what sort of people they were.”

“Are you sure he knows the difference? He talks about children like raising has no effect on them; like if a child is born to two evil people, it’s predestined to be evil. He makes like there’s no choice, no free will. If my parents were evil, he’ll see me as a monster because of that, and no way he’ll want to be with me anymore --”

He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “This is all my fault. Gwen, I had no idea --”

Jo stood up, putting herself between him and Gwen. “I told you to stay put.”

“Couldn’t. I need to talk to Gwen about this.”

“Can you fix this?”

“Maybe?”

“Then fix it.” With a roll of her eyes, Jo left them alone.

Sam dragged a chair over to the swing and sat down across from Gwen. “I had no idea those things I said would do this to you. Dean’s not the only one with foot in mouth disease. I occasionally suffer from a pretty bad case of it myself. Case in point: kids and what I think about them. Um…. I didn’t think we’d need to really discuss it in depth quite yet, but…I think we need to in order to get at the main issue.” Leaning over, he rested his forearms on his knees, hands clasped loosely together. “First off, I know every man, woman, and child has free will. It’s proven. I never meant it to sound like I thought there wasn’t. Dean and I proved it fairly well, busting out of what we were told was predestined with choices we made for ourselves that the angels and demons didn’t believe possible.”

She turned her head, looking at the yard. A breeze rustled the treetops and the bushes. Her cheeks were flushed.

“Bear with me okay? This could take a few minutes.” He thought on how to proceed. Maybe he needed to really explain matters rather than talking around them. “I have issues. Man, do I have issues. Where to begin, right?” He unclasped his hands, gesturing with them as he spoke. “I’ll start at the beginning. You know some of this already. I was given demon blood as a baby and I believe it had a corrupting influence inside me, making me more susceptible to demonic influence. Ruby was that end influence and I ended up addicted to demon blood, which weakened me while making me feel like I was stronger. I deceived myself into thinking my choices were good ones because, hey, I was working towards good goal, right? It doesn’t work that way. At the first drop of demon blood offered to me as an adult, I should have refused.” His heart pounded hard in his chest. “That was a preparation to get me ready to be Lucifer’s vessel.”

She glanced at him, then away.

“My addiction was removed, purged from me right after he was released, but I’m not sure the blood itself was removed. If it was…. I _was_ corrupted as a baby, left with a vulnerability, and I’m hesitant to pass that on to a child that’s biologically mine. If the blood is still there, it’s a possibility. However, when I got my soul back, I felt cleansed in a way I never had. Purified. Like the past was the past and I had a fresh body to start over with.” He shrugged. “Maybe my issues there are no longer real issues, but phantom ones in my mind. Maybe that blood is gone.”

Gwen drew her legs up, arms wrapping around them. 

“My personal experience says kids can be corrupted and influenced, but you’re right. You are. It can go both ways. A good influence is a good one and a bad one is a bad one. Two people can be raised in the same conditions, the same way, but if one has a positive influence somewhere in that life, they’ll turn out far different from each other. They’ll turn out far different anyway. There are plenty of various factors involved in what causes people to seriously choose to be evil. I’m not talking about those who are deceived into evil, but those who actively choose it.” He sat up and gestured to himself. “My issues revolve around how I see myself and any kids I could have some day. I’m trying to not think of myself as a monster anymore, or a freak, but it’s hard to change old habits.”

She looked at him finally.

“If we had kids, I know I wouldn’t have to worry about the vessel issue. Cas said you’re not special that way, so that only leaves the other one really. Well…and the genetic material passing on from me that could eventually become the line again.” He shook his head. “It’s different with you and your birth parents. You didn’t have angels and demons messing with you and your family for archangel line purposes.”

“You’re so scared of having kids, Sam. I just don’t agree with your fears. I think the other factors can be stronger and you and Dean proved that. Yes, you did say yes to Lucifer, but you did it on your terms and overpowered him in the end. You were stronger than the evil they tried to put in you. That’s a credit to your raising and to your relationship with Dean. Especially to your relationship with Dean.”

She had a point with that and one he hadn’t thought about. He’d considered the subject of free will and knew his strong tie with Dean had ultimately won the battle, but to add that his raising had helped strengthen him to fight Lucifer? He thought of all the good and bad things up to that moment when he’d said yes; the choices he, Dean, and their dad had made. If his raising had been any different, it could have weakened his relationship with Dean, which would have changed the outcome of that battle inside his body.

“You are not a monster and if that blood is gone, then what corrupts your genetic line? Nothing. That line is no different than Michael’s or Raphael’s or Gabriel’s. Think about it. All of those lines were pure in the beginning, right? It was probably only when Lucifer rebelled that his vessel had to be tainted to contain him because he was tainted by evil.”

“You see how I got to my view?”

She nodded. “There’s a lot behind it.”

“There is. Now…. The main issue. Gwen, I don’t care who your birth parents turn out to be or what they were. You were raised by Neal and Patricia. You’re not evil. Nothing in what I know of you suggests you’re evil in any way, shape, or form. I’ve seen many facets of one woman and nothing remotely evil hiding in there.” 

“I just…. I don’t want you to see me any differently than you do. Sam….” She took a deep breath and shifted position, legs down, hands gripping the edge of the swing seat. “I love you and it’s okay, you don’t have to say it back. But it would hurt me if what we find out changed our relationship. I don’t want it to change. I don’t want to lose what we have and it seems like it’s easier to drop any investigation than to push forward.”

“You won’t lose it and I don’t want to lose you or what we have either.” His phone buzzed and he didn’t even draw it out, letting it go to voicemail. “But I’m not so sure we have a choice in this matter. I think the cases are the same and we’re already in the middle of whatever it is.” Sam moved from the chair to the swing beside her. “Let me ask you…. Some of what I told you were things you’d never heard before. Do you see me any differently because of them?”

“No.” She made it sound like he’d said a ridiculous thing, the very point he was getting to.

“Then why do you think I’d see you differently? You’re not Gwen Carys, you’re Gwen Campbell and that’s the end of these fears, got it?”

Slowly, she nodded, the lines of strain easing from her face. “Yeah.”

“I can’t stop investigating this idea. We are so close to answers. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He held her for a few minutes and when she returned inside the house, he checked his phone.

The detective had finally called him back. Sam returned the call, then spoke to Ellen’s source and headed up to the office. Gwen was back up there, helping Dean put bullet points on the cork tile.

“Hey, I might have something concrete. That symbol isn’t one that’s prevalent, but it surfaces about every four years and has for awhile. The symbol from ’89 is the same one from ’09. Ellen’s source confirmed cases from ‘85, ‘93 with the symbol. ‘85 familiar to anyone?”

“My mom’s diary had ‘85 listed in the pattern.” Gwen turned from the wall.

“He’s looking into failed abductions in the pattern years that might fit, but he did give me the names of two men in prison with the symbol tattooed on them.” Names he’d run across before.

“Good work, Sammy. Anything else?”

Sam thought of the things he could mention at this point and shook his head. “Not yet.” He needed to sit down with the information he had and lay it all out, double checking the facts to see if what he thought he had now was really there. “But I’ll let you know when I do have something else.”

Dean knew he had information, Sam could see it on his face, but he merely nodded and turned back to the wall, silently giving Sam permission to pursue whatever he had at his own pace and bring it out when it became pertinent.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby’s house was quiet. He was off on a job with Rufus and Ellen, something Jo had found about a locket. The three had gone tearing out with some special box Bobby had made.

Dean rubbed his eyes. “I swear I’m seeing double. All these symbols look alike now.” He was bored with trying to identify the symbol and Sam was being closemouthed on the angle he was working up, on the phone and computer at all hours the past few days in an almost manic burst of energy.

Beside him, Jo smiled and flipped a page in one book. “Take a nap.”

He looked at her. She was looking particularly saucy today, with her hair down and a tank top that was considerably lower cut than it should be due to the recent increase in her bust line. He was enjoying all of the changes her body was going through with the baby even if she wasn’t particularly thrilled with some of them. “I don’t want to take a nap.” He turned in his chair and leaned over, arms going around her and hands hooking on the chair, dragging it close. “I want my beautiful wife to stop searching for a symbol we probably won’t find and canoodle with me for awhile.” He pressed a couple kisses along her arm up to her shoulder.

“Canoodle, Dean?” She didn’t turn her head, looking at him from the corner of her eye, a thing he found enticing when paired with that flirtatious tone.

“Kiss me, woman.”

She turned her head then, leaning over. He snaked a hand up to her breasts, giving a gentle caress, inching the neckline of her tank lower. They’d barely begun to kiss when a knock sounded on the door.

He leaned back a fraction. “Who do you think that is?” He ran a finger along the neckline of the tank. Maybe whoever it was would go away.

“Can’t be Rufus, he’s with mom and Bobby. It’s not Shawn, he’s afraid Bobby really will blow his nuts off if he comes back. Maybe it’s Melissa?”

The knock sounded again, only this time it more of a pounding.

“Damn it,” Dean muttered, releasing her and pushing his chair back. “I wanted to canoodle.”

“Answer the door. We’ll canoodle and more when whoever it is is gone. I promise.” She leaned back and grasped the edge of the tank. “Here’s a preview to tide you over.” She flashed him a lovely view of her breasts encased in lace and satiny fabric, then lowered the tank back in place.

“Must I answer it?”

“Go.”

Grumbling about the unfairness of it all, he went to the door and opened it. His good mood went dark in a second. “Ben? What the hell are you doing here?”

The teenager swallowed hard and licked his lips. “Dean…. I need your help.”

Dean’s throat seemed to constrict, barely letting any air through. His past was going to collide with his present in about ten seconds and he wasn’t anywhere ready for that to happen.

Son of bitch.


	35. Chapter 35

Dean was bored, spending more time tapping his feet and staring at the ceiling then he was looking for the symbol. Jo stifled a grin and continued to look through the books spread out on the table. Sam had given them one job in his own quest for information and they were failing miserably at it. If they had any idea who the god was they were looking for, maybe they’d find the symbol faster, but they didn’t. Truth be told, she was bored, too. It wouldn’t take much to distract her right now. Jo wanted a distraction, even _needed_ one.

She wanted something to take her mind off of the decision to ask about the sex of the baby at the appointment next week. They’d wanted her to come in a couple weeks ago, but with Dean gone then, she’d asked to reschedule so he could be there with her. Dean didn’t want to know the sex. He was vehement about it, claiming that he didn’t care either way. Boy or girl made no difference to him as long as the baby and Jo were safe and healthy in the end. He wanted the whole traditional, old-fashioned birth experience with her. Jo however, wasn’t sure she wanted to wait to know. It’d be nice to be able to get some things ahead of time.

The idea he had right then to canoodle wasn’t a new one for the morning. He’d had that idea once already, but Jo didn’t mind. Distractions were good. Unfortunately, they were interrupted. She sent him off to answer the door and returned to studying the book.

“Ben? What the hell are you doing here?”

Jo looked up at the tone of Dean’s voice. It held anger, exasperation, annoyance, and a little bit of fear. Did he just say Ben? As in Ben Braeden?

“Dean…. I need your help.” The boy was tall, with the gangly look to him that indicated he’d recently gone through a growth spurt.

“Where’s your mom?”

“You didn’t answer the phone. I’ve been calling for days. I had to come.”

The reason for Dean’s sudden cell phone switch made perfect sense now. Jo wondered a moment why Dean hadn’t told her about the calls. Ben said Dean hadn’t answered. Perhaps Dean had only speculated who was calling and switched phones to keep that part of his past in the past? He obviously hadn’t expected the boy to come to Bobby’s house. 

She slammed the book shut and swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly very dry. Ben Braeden. A sliver of tension pierced her. Ben and his mother were one topic that made Dean revert into an uncharacteristic uncertainty. She could always tell when he thought about them because he moped around and talked about how horrible a parent he was going to be. For those moments they were in his thoughts, he was a different man entirely, a change that emphasized to Jo just how much Lisa had ultimately affected him and not a good change, either.

Sitting back, she rested a hand on her stomach, listening.

“I drove.”

“You drove? You’re not sixteen.”

“I have a fake i.d..” The boy said it like it was nothing. “And I’m a good driver. I know the rules of the road.”

For them, fake i.d.’s were nothing, for a civilian it was criminal, and Dean looked like he was about to have a stroke. Jo got up, tugged her tank down to cover her belly and joined them, putting a hand on the small of Dean’s back and feigning an ease she wasn’t feeling with the situation. Think calm, she told herself. She needed to be calm because Dean was anything but at the moment. He was tense already, the muscles hard knots. She slid her hand beneath his t-shirt, gently caressing the spot. “What’s going on,” she asked even though she’d heard every word thus far.

“He has a fake license. A fake license, Jo.” Dean looked at her, then back at Ben. “Where’d you get it, Ben?”

“I know a guy.”

“Oh you know a guy, do you? How’d you get here? You steal a car?” His voice sounded tight, as though he was having to force every word out.

“No! I borrowed it!”

“From who? What idiot would let a kid your age borrow their car?”

“Tommy’s mom.”

“Does Tommy’s mom _know_ you borrowed the car?”

“No. She’s on a three week cruise with her new boyfriend. I’ll have it back before she gets back.”

“So that makes it okay?”

“No! I had to borrow the car. How else was I supposed to get here? I need your help. Mom’s in danger. I had to get here and see if that old guy that lives here knew where you were. It’s an emergency and we’re wasting time talking.”

“You just happened to keep Bobby’s address somewhere?”

“Yes!”

Jo took a step forward, positioning herself a little between them, hand on Dean’s chest. “Okay. Let’s bring it in the house, okay? You keep going, sweetheart, and they’ll hear you in Sioux Falls. Come on. Both of you.” She looked at Ben. “In the house. Now.” She motioned Ben inside and shut the door, shooing them both into the kitchen.

Dean went all the way across to the kitchen cabinets, taking a defensive stance beside the fridge with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter. “Why did you keep Bobby’s address, Ben?”

“Because I thought I might need it to find you some day. I needed to know how to find you if you might not answer your phone -- like the past few days! You didn’t answer, Dean. What else was I supposed to do? Sit there and wait for her to die? I had to do something and the guy that lives here is like a close friend of yours or something. I thought he’d know where you were if you weren’t here, but you are here and you can save her!”

“Right. What is it this time?” He shifted position slightly. “The last guy not work out? Is it a new guy that’s got you upset? Or….” His head tilted, as though an idea had just occurred to him. “Is your mom getting married? That it? Big wedding planned and you thought you’d break it up? That’s low, Ben. You’re getting way too old for this kind of behavior.”

Jo joined Dean at the counter, taking a similar position beside him. She watched the play of emotions on both their faces, trying to read what was happening and if it was what Dean thought.

Ben sighed and rolled his eyes as though the idea was stupid. “Mom’s not seeing anyone right now.”

A muscle on Dean’s jaw ticked. “And you thought you’d come and lure me back to her with the old danger routine?”

“No! She’s in real danger this time! I mean it!”

He shook his head. “Do better than that, Ben. I’ve heard this story before. You’ve _given_ me this story before. Fool me once, shame on you.” He pointed at Ben. “Fool me twice,” that finger turned to himself, “shame on me. Not gonna happen.”

“Will you listen to me!”

Jo studied Ben Braeden a bit closer. Something in his tone alerted her that perhaps he wasn’t trying to manipulate Dean.

~~~~~~~~~~

The past hated him. That had to be it. All Dean wanted to do was shove Ben on a plane, train, or bus and send him back to Lisa without going through any of this. He wanted to never deal with any of it ever again, yet here was Ben, still in front of him even after he closed his eyes and opened them again. He kept praying he’d fallen asleep and this was a nightmare, but Ben wasn’t going away and Dean was feeling desperate for this moment to end already. He’d started over, done all of the steps to that end, so why couldn’t that part go away? His life was with Jo and Sam now, not Lisa and Ben. He and Jo had an appointment for a sonogram or ultrasound or whatever that thing was next week the doctor said Jo had to have! He didn’t need this! He needed to focus on the present and everything in his life now.

“Ben.”

“Come on, Dean. Come help me. Mom’s in real trouble.”

“No. I can’t help you.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“I’m not doing this again.” He put his arm around Jo. “Do you see this beautiful woman beside me?” At Ben’s slow nod, he continued. “She’s my wife. My _wife_. I can’t go back to you and your mom. I’ve moved on with my life, Ben.”

There was a flicker of hurt in Ben’s eyes and Dean felt a prickle of guilt for his harsh tone. These things had to be said though, right? “I’m not asking you to come back to us. I know you can’t. I’m not stupid. I figured you’d moved on by now. Geez. I just need you to help us.”

“I can’t. Me going with you would put trouble between me and Jo and I can’t have that. I can’t go running whenever you cry wolf. I won’t. Do you hear me? I’m done.”

Ben shook his head. “I need a hunter!”

“I’ll refer you to one.”

He made a frustrated noise and his desperation seemed real enough. However, Dean had fallen for it before. “She won’t believe she’s in danger. I’ve tried to tell her and she doesn’t believe me, but if you come and tell her, she’ll believe you. It’s like she doesn’t remember anything of what we’ve seen. She thinks I’m making this up.”

“Aren’t you?” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He couldn’t tell Ben that Lisa would no more believe Dean than she did Ben because Dean’s world had no place in hers. Lisa had made that clear. She liked her world neat, with certainty, and all of the things that weren’t a part of his world. He thought that was her defense mechanism: turning a blind eye to what she didn’t want to see or deal with. She’d rather smile, grit her teeth, and pretend everything was okay. “Ben….”

Ben’s lips thinned a moment and he changed tactics. Dean could see that flash of calculation in Ben’s eyes before he turned to Jo, a calculation that only increased his feeling that this was everything he’d called it as being: a ploy. Ben was trying to play them. “Please help me. Even if you don’t know my mom, help me save her. She’s my _mother_. Please. I know you’re a hunter, too. Talk to him.”

“What? How do you know I’m a hunter?” Jo crossed her arms, lips parting and brows raising.

“The charm on your necklace. It’s anti-possession, right? Only hunters know that stuff. Well…and people who are really interested in it.” Ben’s gaze lowered to Jo’s stomach, a speculative and strangely adult gaze turning back to Dean. “It’s because she’s pregnant, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t come.”

“No.” Though in truth, there _was_ that. He wanted to take jobs near Jo for the last bit of her pregnancy and for about a year after. He didn’t want to miss the early months of their baby’s life. He’d been doing more reading and those first months were very important. “It’s because old girlfriends and new wives don’t mix, period. Look, there are hunters I know who’d be glad of the work right now --”

“No. I don’t want them. I want you.” The set of Ben’s jaw indicated further arguments to come. “You’re the best. I need the best because anything less and she could die.”

The dramatic tone, overly so, in his opinion, set the tension rising further on his back and he stood up straight. The knots on his muscles probably had knots of their own now. He felt like a spring being coiled tighter and tighter. “Other hunters are just as good, some better.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“There’s always someone better and more experienced, Ben.”

It was obvious in the way Ben began to argue with him that he was losing some of his awe in adults and authority figures, entering a rebellious phase even. He wasn’t going to go home without a fight.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Jo hated to admit the kid wasn’t being manipulative and faking, his desperation was real enough. He’d have to be a gifted actor to pull off the worry she was seeing. She licked her lips. “He has a point,” she interrupted with more than a little reluctance. She hated to support any reason that would send Dean back anywhere near Ben’s mother, but there was no way around Ben’s worry for his mother. It was genuine and now Jo was a little curious as to what had sent him across the country on what could have ended up a fool’s errand. “Ben has a point,” she said a bit louder. 

Both heads turned in her direction. 

“He what?” Dean’s voice was incredulous, as though he thought she was betraying him somehow.

“I do?” Ben was surprised, looking at her like she was a stranger offering him candy if he’d get in her van.

She came forward. “You are among the best, Dean, and if he does need help, contacting the skilled individual of his acquaintance for the job was a smart move.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Ben said with more than a little attitude of the sort that would have gotten Jo a hard smack to the rear even at his age.

“He met Bobby, Jo. Bobby’s got the years --”

“Bobby’s not here. Go on the porch and call Sam and Gwen. Have them come over and wait for them out there. Cool off.” When Dean had gone, over protest, she motioned at the table. “Sit.”

“But I --”

“Sit,” she said in a firmer tone.

Ben sat, watching her warily.

“I’m Jo and you’re Ben, right?” Jo tried to give him a friendly smile, though it was difficult.

He nodded.

“Dean’s mentioned you. He said you’re a smart boy.” That seemed to make him relax a little and it was the truth. Dean had mentioned way back when he’d first explained that part of his life to her that Ben was a smart boy. “Do you drink coffee yet, or are you still a soda guy?”

His voice was hesitant. “Um…. Soda I guess. Coffee tastes gross.”

When the soda was open and set before him, she sat across from him and crossed her arms on the tabletop. “You’re right, I don’t know your mother, Ben. I’ve never met her and never thought I ever would. I can see you’re very worried for her, so why don’t you tell me what’s been going on back in…Michigan, right?”

“Right. She’s in danger --”

“Start at the beginning, okay? When did you first notice something was wrong?”

He looked around the kitchen, then copied her pose. “Tommy and I were at the park. We’d been out in the woods west of town watching these people at the old Hotchkiss place. It’s a ginormous house that someone tried to turn into a hotel and they abandoned it because they ran out of money or something a long time ago. Well, some group bought it recently. All of a sudden. Friends of something. I don’t know. “M’ something. Some group. I’d never heard of them and neither had mom. This woman came by the house with information for mom, said they were fixing the place up and they’d like her to attend a special reception soon as a grand opening for their outreach center or something like that. Sounded weird because that house is all boarded up. Tommy and I have been watching them and they’re not working on it, at least not on the outside. It still look abandoned and that woman said the reception was July second. It’s almost July and when I left, it was still boarded up.”

She nodded and let him go on without interrupting. It did sound strange so far, at least to her. If she went on Dean’s assumption that he was making things up however, she could easily deduce that he was seeing sinister plots where there were none. Lots of groups bought houses intending on fixing them up and using them as a place of business and a reception for a place didn’t necessarily have to be at that place. 

“I don’t think mom was going to go. She threw the invitation away. Anyway, Tommy and I saw mom sitting in a car that wasn’t hers. She hadn’t been looking at cars and my phone rang then. It was her and the mom in the car wasn’t on the phone.” He leaned over a little. “Weird-o-rama, as Tommy says.”

Jo leaned closer, matching his pose now in an attempt to make him feel like he could confide in her. She nodded. “Go on.”

“I started seeing mom when I knew she was either at home or work. One time I saw her when I was talking to her on the phone about staying at Jason’s house. She was just standing there across from our house, staring at mom through the front window. Tommy and I started following this other mom when we saw her and she’s like mom only not. It’s her, but it’s not. I can tell my mom and this other thing isn’t her. I was thinking about what could do that.” He took a quick drink of soda. “I think it’s a doppelganger. That means she’s going to die, right? If she confronts it?”

“Honestly, Ben, it could be other things, too.”

“I know.”

The vehemence of his answer made her blink. “You know?”

“Tommy and I have been doing research. Maybe it’s a shape shifter of some kind. I don’t know why a shape shifter would go after her though. Anyway, it all started right after that woman showed up about the friends group. I think there’s a connection, but I don’t know for sure. There hasn’t been anything strange in the paper. Tommy and I have been seeing this other mom more and more and I tried to call Dean for advice because he’d know about those things. More than me, anyway. He didn’t pick up and he didn’t answer my messages, so Tommy offered me the car and was going to cover for me in case mom realized I wasn’t at the camping trip.”

“Camping trip?”

“A group of us were supposed to go camping for two weeks and I sort of didn’t go. I mean, I talked to the chaperone just before they left and told him mom changed her mind, and it was okay to keep our deposit because it was her last minute decision. How could I go when it’s almost July second and mom’s got this double running around? I think time is running out!”

“You said your mom doesn’t believe you?”

“I tried telling her, but she thinks I’m making up stories just because Tommy and I did that one time as a prank. She told me to write it down and we’d send it off to be published.” He snorted like that had been an insult.

“Must have been some story you two came up with that time.”

“It was. It had everything. Action, adventure, horror. It was awesome! Like a video game and movie combined.” He took another drink of soda and sobered. “It was a story though. This isn’t. She’s really in danger. Can you convince Dean to come back with me and take care of it? I don’t know how to stop a doppelganger or any of the other things that it could be and I don’t want my mom to die.”

“You’re going to need to repeat all of this to Dean, Sam, and Gwen.”

He flinched at Sam’s name and Jo wondered why. She knew Lisa hadn’t liked Sam. Lisa had hardly welcomed Sam into her house. Had that rubbed off on Ben? “Who’s Gwen,” he asked.

She used the simplest explanation. Ben didn’t need to know the whole back story. “Sam’s girlfriend.”

“Is she a hunter, too?”

Jo nodded. “Born and raised, like me.”

She saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes bleed across his face as his gaze lowered to her stomach. “I thought Dean didn’t want his… _family_ …involved in hunting?” His tone was sullen.

How did she answer that? She decided not to answer at all, staying silent, drawing conclusions as to what was going on in Ben’s head. He was hurt about Dean marrying her and having a baby on the way; by the unsaid implication of her being a hunter that their child would be raised one as well. She did know Dean had told Ben he would never be a hunter if Dean had any say in it. That Dean might allow his biological child to hunt and not Ben was likely emphasizing to Ben that perhaps Dean had never considered him family after all. Not true. Dean had thought of Ben as his own for that year.

But Ben was still a child, without the experiences to see the nuance of what was there. Jo thought it’d probably be years before Ben would understand -- if he ever did.

She snagged a pen and a yellow legal tablet from a pile of papers. “Can you write down the name of group and details like that for me? Anything. Names, dates you heard. Who’d had the property, any symbols you saw regarding the group. Try to use the proper spellings if you saw them. Don’t abbreviate unless that’s what you saw.”

He blinked, swallowed hard, and nodded. “I didn’t see a symbol, but I can give you the rest. What are you going to do with it?”

She watched him closely as she answered. If he’d made up the details, this was going to spook him and cause him to consider confessing. “Do some searches, make some calls, find out what we can.”

He took the paper and pen. “Can I help?”

“You can write it down to start. That’s a help right there. That’s a big help. If there really is something going on --”

“There is,” he insisted.

Jo raised her brows and her voice to just above a normal speaking tone. “If there is, then we’ll make sure your mother is kept safe.”

“Dean doesn’t believe me.”

“If the facts are there, he will.” Dean wasn’t going to like this. A rudimentary investigation would do two things however. It’d calm Ben first and foremost. Then, it would expose truth or lie, one or the other. Dean couldn’t argue with calmly refuting the details Ben’s story. In Jo’s opinion, either one meant Ben needed help. If he was lying, something had to have sent him across the country to Dean and that something needed addressed. If he was telling the truth, that needed addressed also, only in a far different way. She hated that they might have a serious issue to take back to Lisa. Jo had hoped they’d never see that woman.

“I already looked into what could be after her.”

“Not enough. It’s okay, Ben. This is the process. You have a general idea what could be there and now it’s time to look a bit closer at anything that could give a lead on how to proceed.”

“You’re not going to go in and kick it’s ass?” He sounded confused.

She smiled, a little laugh welling up. “Not yet. Not enough information.”

He wrote a minute, then looked up. “So…. It’s like detective work, not….” He shrugged.

“It’s not like in the movies, tv shows, video games, graphic novels, and books. There’s a process to it and if you go in half-cocked you can get yourself and innocent bystanders killed. It can cost a lot of lives.”

“But I thought….?” He frowned, shook his head, and returned to writing.

By the time Sam and Gwen arrived, she had Dean and Ben both calmed down a little.

~~~~~~~~~~

In Ben’s mind had been the rough idea that all of Dean’s cases were like the one Ben had been in the middle of when he was younger. He’d thought it was exciting, but after spending over an hour going over details and going back over them, he was thoroughly bored and thought they’d covered it enough. Couldn’t they just go back and kick monster ass? Why did they have to do all of this talking and research? Wasn’t it enough to decide what they were dealing with?

He got in the backseat of the Impala, sitting where Dean told him to. Jo was in the passenger seat. Gwen was driving her own car while Sam had taken the keys to Tommy’s mom’s car. The ride wasn’t a long one, fifteen minutes by his watch, and they pulled up in front of a two-story house outside of town.

“Is this your house,” he asked as he followed Dean inside. Jo was behind him.

“Yes,” Dean snapped. He was still angry. “Don’t touch anything.”

Ben resisted the urge to do just that, not wanting to make either of them mad. If he made Jo mad, she might not let Dean help him.

“You can sit on the couch,” Jo told him gently, gesturing at it before going through a doorway and up stairs.

“No touching anything. You sit and stay sitting.” Dean crossed his arms.

He sat. The room had a different feel from his house. This was a place where feet could go on the coffee table even with shoes on and spills on the carpet were no big deal. There was some dust and nothing was super neat or even really decorated. The table in front of the couch had a laptop on it and stacks of papers spread out. If he turned his head and looked past Dean, he could see a bedroom at the back of the house through an open door. The bed was made, a few clothes on the end. 

Sam and Gwen came in through the kitchen. They glanced at each other and Sam slid his hands into his pockets. “Ben? You hungry? Gwen and I were getting ready to grill some burgers when Dean called. There’s plenty. How do you like your burger? Medium well?” His brows rose in question.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “We’re not eating. Soon as Jo comes back down to watch him I’m packing a bag and taking him home.”

Gwen leaned against the doorjamb, her smile and tone coaxing. “Come on, Dean. It’s lunchtime. Have a couple burgers and then you won’t have to stop until dinner. There’s salad and chips. Watermelon. Strawberry pie from the bakery.”

Jo came down the stairs and crossed to them. She was wearing a different shirt. “That sounds good.”

“Gwen.” Dean’s tone had a warning to it and Ben would have back off right there. That tone meant business.

Gwen’s smile widened however, like she hadn’t even noticed Dean’s tone. “What? A body’s got to eat.” She made it sound reasonable, shrugging her shoulders.

Jo cleared her throat. “The baby wants watermelon,” she told Dean.

“The ba --” Dean shook his head, like she’d confused him. “What?”

“The baby wants watermelon,” she repeated. “And a hamburger with mustard, relish and onion.”

“Onion gives you heartburn.”

Ben noticed some of the anger leaving Dean’s eyes, his body relaxing.

“Everything gives me heartburn. If I cut out everything that does that, there wouldn’t be anything left.” She batted her lashes at him. “Make me a hamburger before you go?”

Dean sighed. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re all up to here. Fine. We’ll eat first.”

It was settled. They would leave after lunch, Dean still talking about dropping Ben off and leaving Michigan without investigating. Ben sat on the porch, watching Dean and Sam make the burgers and listening to Jo and Gwen getting the rest of the food ready. He really was hungry, but the uncertainty over whether or not Dean would help him once he was home had him leaving half a burger on his plate.

That, and watching Jo and Dean together. He didn’t like seeing those familiar touches couples did when they knew each other well, or the looks and glances that meant they could communicate an entire conversation with only facial expressions. He hated knowing they had that closeness and he hated knowing how ingrained Jo was in Dean’s life. She’d replaced his mother and was in the process of replacing him. Soon, in a few months, Dean would forget Ben had ever existed. He’d have a baby of his own blood.

Why was Jo being nice to him? She should be mean and nasty so he could hate her easily. The same with Sam. He should be arrogant, selfish, and all of those things he’d heard his mom crying late at night back when Dean had first started leaving. He remembered staying very still and quiet, listening to her in her room talking to Aunt Jenny on the phone. She’d told Jenny that Dean’s brother was arrogant, selfish, and inconsiderate; that he’d expected Dean to drop everything for him and he’d just gone. He’d left them over and over for Sam.

Why was Sam being nice then? If he was those things, he wasn’t nice, yet he seemed nice. Ben couldn’t figure it out. Sam kept making sure he’d had enough to eat, that he didn’t need anything to drink. Gwen asked if he was comfortable and Jo…. She was going to talk Dean into helping him. Why? It was confusing. They weren’t supposed to be like this.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’d been overruled. After the hour of debating Ben’s story back at Bobby’s, Dean had expected to be overruled, only not over lunch. He’d actually expected Sam, Gwen, and even Jo to suggest there might really be something there to investigate -- which he didn’t believe for an instant. Ben did have a wild imagination.

He took his bag out of the closet and checked it, making sure he had everything in there already. “I’m going to take him back,” he told Jo when she came in and closed the bedroom door.

“Uh…not by yourself you’re not.” Jo put her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

“Why not? I take him home, drop him off, come back here. It’s a couple days at most and I’m back long before our appointment next week.” He zipped his bag and glanced at her. “I cannot wait to see the first picture of our --”

She came close, not letting him change the subject. “Dean, you told me how that woman treated you. She manipulated you, tried to make you into a man you aren’t. She put down your _brother_ and made it clear he wasn’t welcome there. You remember any of that? You’re the one told me all about it. Give me one good reason why I should let you walk in to her house alone?”

“You trust me.”

“Of course I trust you. It’s her I don’t trust. She tried to make you choose her over Sam. Over _Sam_ , Dean. That’s a big problem right there. That tells me that she had no idea what Sam means to you, not even a little inkling. No, you’re not going alone. I won’t let her have the chance to work on you again, even for a minute. I’m going, and before you try playing the safe card, it’s not a job. It’s a road trip to take Ben home. I’ll be perfectly safe. You have no grounds to insist I stay home…. Unless you _want_ to see her?”

He sat on their bed and looked up at her. “You know I don’t want that. When I said goodbye to her, I said goodbye for good. If I could send Sam and Gwen to take him home I would, but it’s my responsibility to return him.”

She stepped between his spread legs and put her hands on his shoulders. “No, sweetheart, it’s our responsibility. I’ll be right there with you. I never particularly wanted to meet her, but I’d rather do this with you than let you have to do it alone.” One hand stroked his cheek. “You need someone with you. If not me, then Sam.”

Dean let his shoulders slump. “I thought they were gone, you know? I thought I had this second chance to do things right and it’s working like it never had before. You, marriage, the baby…. Then here comes this monkey wrench right in the middle.” Reaching up, he took her hand in his. “I changed phones because I knew the area code that kept calling and I was afraid it was one of them. I was afraid if I answered….” He licked his lips. “It’d hurt you.”

“I know. I figured that out.”

“You did?” He peered up at her, then sighed. “I should have told you right then rather than let you be blindsided by him showing up.”

“You were just as blindsided and he’s here now. Let’s deal with this together.”

“Okay. You drive Tommy’s mom’s car --”

“Nope. Gwen says she and Sam will drive it.”

“Why?” He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer.

Jo laid her arms about his shoulders. “Don’t know. Something Sam said to her.”

Sam was up to something. It wasn’t necessary for all four of them to drive Ben home. He was going to have to talk to Sam, one more thing to do before they left.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a grueling while of testing, Castiel had a list of angels who were able to adapt to circumstances and overcome any longing to fall to earth. What he was supposed to do with that list, he had no idea.

He stepped into the garden. He’d cancelled the last two meetings he was supposed to have with Joshua and could see the older angel wasn’t pleased with him. He resisted the urge to apologize over and over. “Joshua.”

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

“You requested a meeting.”

The look Joshua directed at him made him feel like an errant child. “I have something for you.” He proffered a scroll. “From God.”

“What does it say?”

“It’s sealed.” He twisted his wrist, revealing the large seal along the edge. “Only you can open it. Only you can read the contents.”

Slowly, he reached out and took the scroll. He broke the seal and opened it. It was an invitation to a meeting, with a date, time, and place listed. The date was this very day, the time not long from this moment. He rolled the scroll back up. A face to face meeting. After all this time, someone other than the archangels would see God’s face: Castiel.

It was an honor and at the same time, he was filled with a mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, and dread. What was this meeting about? Was he finally going to have answers to those questions he’d yet to find answers to?

“Did you know?”

Joshua didn’t answer the question. “I suggest you don’t keep Him waiting.”

With a nod, Castiel slipped from heaven and to the meeting place.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Sam had started this side project, he’d thought it really would be a shot in the dark to find anything. With the additional criteria of day and time of birth, he added a few possible clippings he’d already been looking at and one definite that he was waiting on final details on to a folder. The only thing that didn’t fit on the possibles were the ages of the kids. None were babies and one a teenager. So far, they’d had two babies and speculation on Gwen as a third. Did it need to be babies, though? The date and time of birth appeared to be the main factor, not the age of the sacrifice.

The call he’d been waiting for came and he added the information to one clipping in the margin. Sam studied everything he had spread out with a long sigh. Slowly, he moved papers and clippings around into a semblance of order.

It was time to talk to Dean.

“Dean,” he called out. “Talk to you a minute?”

He came from downstairs. Sam could hear Gwen talking to Ben, asking him questions that were all about putting the boy at ease.

“Sam?”

“Shut the door.”

He stepped back down, closed the door into the stairwell and returned. “Got something?”

Sam slid three photocopied clippings across the table. “Take a look.”

“What am I looking at?” He read through them and Sam waited until he’d read all three. The first was about a teenaged girl. The second a toddler and the third a foiled abduction. Michigan. Minnesota. Illinois.

“All of them girls, all born June second. Toddler killed in ‘01, teenager in ‘05. Bodies were found burned on altars with a symbol painted on the floor around it.” He pulled two pictures from the folder and laid them on the table. “Recognize them?”

“That’s the same symbol we found on the floor of the Atwater property from ‘09.” He tapped a finger to the last clipping and laid it down. “What about this failed one in ’97? Where does it fit?”

“It took a few calls and sweet talking to get it, but she was born June second, too. Dean, it’s the pattern. Look at the years. If you extend Patricia’s dates, they match up. ‘77, ‘81, ‘85 connection, ‘89 connection, ‘93 connection, ‘97 connection there but failed execution of the abduction and sacrifice, ‘01 connection, ‘05 connection, ‘09 connection. All girls. All born June second and get this. Born at five in the morning.”

“How much sweet talking did you do, Sammy?”

“I claimed I was doing genealogical research on a branch of my family. They caught the man in ‘97. His name was Mason Lee Hanover.”

“You ever notice how they always have three names?”

He laughed. “They do. Anyway, he happened to be active in a coven when he was arrested and that coven disappeared, let him take the fall. He has a very distinctive tattoo. Let me show you….” Sam drew out a picture.

“That’s the symbol, only it’s got initials in the center.” Dean snatched the picture from him. “What’re they? M…L…. Is that a ‘K’? Please tell me that’s not an ‘H’ and he got a creepy tattoo with his own initials on it.”

“No, it’s a ‘K’. Arresting officer wrote that he babbled about pleasing sacrifices to raise his god and the tattoo was to show his devotion. Whether or not the initials were for the god or the leader of the coven is another matter entirely. He wouldn’t say. At the time, he was the second of two men. The leader and the rest were women. The other man with that same tattoo was found dead in his cell recently, as in this month recent. Not a mark on him, though he did have a strange small roundish object in his cell that the officers called ‘voodoo paraphernalia’.”

“Hex bag?”

“Be my guess. That was all I could get on him. No one wanted to say much about him.”

“All the victims and potential victims were female, born on June second, at five a.m.” Dean set the picture down and rested his palms on the table. “Gwen was born then in ‘81.” He studied the clippings, then the pictures and without standing, he looked at Sam. “Jesus, Sam, you did it. You put it all together. It’s a cycle, a definite cycle of sacrifices being offered to a god.”

“Look at the pattern again. Patricia wrote that there was a four year cycle, right? We see that over and over.” He tapped the pages and pictures with a finger. “However, she also wrote that they couldn’t allow a full cycle. What’s a full cycle? What if a full cycle is four sacrifices, four years apart?”

“Sixteen years.”

“If that’s the case, Dean, this is the sixteenth year. ‘01, ‘05, ‘09 sacrifices were made. This could be the year they raise their god. Arlene told Gwen the witch needed Gwen because of her birth day and time, implying that her murder was going to be the one to raise the god.”

“Whoever he may be. Anything else?”

“Yeah, I found information on a failed abduction from ‘77 that could be a part of it. Patricia did mention ’77. Family is on the way to take Ben home. I thought Gwen and I could come along, drive the extra car back and I’ll make a side trip on the way. We can meet in Battle Creek, take Ben home, and if what I have pans out, I think we might have a shot at solving this and stopping the witch while we’re out.”

Standing, Dean raised a hand, and covered his mouth a moment before closing the hand into a fist and tapping against his mouth. His hand lowered and he nodded. “Can we do it and keep Gwen safe?”

He didn’t know. “Could go either way, but that’s normal for us. We can send Gwen and Jo home if things start going south.”

“If this thing is a god, what’s your best guess as to which one it is?”

“If we go by the initials in the tattoo, it could be Molek. I’ve found several different spellings of the name. He was supposedly an Ammonite god who liked baby and small child sacrifices to made to him, preferably with the child burned alive.”

“That fits.”

“Except not all of the sacrifices were small children and babies. There was a teenager in there, too. I’ve also found evidence that Molek might not be a god, but rather a high level demon, possibly very loyal to Lucifer.”

“Great. A god or a high level demon. Just what we need roaming around.” 

“Yeah, but we don’t know that’s what the initials mean. I tried getting in to see the guy, but it’s a no-go. No visitors and it didn’t matter how I went at it. There’s no seeing him to confirm anything and if it doesn’t have to be a child sacrificed, that opens a wide range of gods as our possible one. If it’s even a god. If it’s a demon?” He snorted. “Needle in a stack of needles. If we could find the symbol in a book somewhere it’d help, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

Dean’s gaze was steady and intense. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Sitting back, Sam crossed his arms, attempting a casual shrug. “I’m worried for Gwen.”

“No, there’s information you’re not sharing. I can see it on your face. How about you come clean now so we don’t have to do this later?”

Sam gathered up the clippings and photos and shoved them into the folder. 

“Not only can I see it on your face, but you’re fidgeting.”

“Okay, there is something. It’s the last thing I need to check on. It’s that side trip and when I know something, you will. Trust me, Dean.”

“You promise you’ll tell me as soon as you know?”

“I do. I’m just not comfortable adding it to the mix until I’m certain it’s part of this.” Sam watched the struggle on Dean’s face. “You’ve got enough to worry about with getting Ben home. Let me take care of this.”

His lips pursed and eyes narrowed as he thought and then Dean sighed. “Fine. We leave in twenty.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Sam waited until Dean was back downstairs, then drew out the clipping he’d left out from the ones he’d shown to Dean. He already had confirmation of sorts, but he wanted to talk to the woman’s parents before going in to her house with guns blazing to protect her. He had a suspicion the sort of reception that would receive.

On June 3 of 1977, a child had been stolen from the hospital she’d been born in, snatched from beneath the noses of a very busy hospital staff and recovered by a good Samaritan days later. The Braden family had changed the spelling of their name and moved, but Sam’s digging had uncovered the particulars of the child involved. Lisa Braden was Lisa Braeden. Ben’s mother.

She was part of the cycle and Sam about groaned out loud every time he thought about that. Out of all the things he’d expected to uncover, it had to be this? L.B. in Patricia’s diary was Lisa Braden, just like G.C. was Gwen Carys. 1977 and 1981, two sacrifices saved by the Campbell family.

Couple that information with Ben’s story and Sam was afraid that Lisa really was in honest danger. She fit the criteria and if someone had actively looked for her and knew what they were doing, it wouldn’t have taken them any longer than Sam had to find her and the truth about her, not with today’s technology.

He’d go to her parents, talk to them, and hopefully he could rule her out. Sam would like Ben’s story to be just that and they could be done with the Braeden family once and for all, but he was afraid that simply wasn’t going to be the case. Why did it have to be Lisa and why did their paths have to cross this way?


	36. Chapter 36

A severe case of nervousness assailed Castiel non-stop on the short journey to earth. I’m meeting God, he thought. I’m really meeting God. 

He touched down and approached the park bench. He was right on time, but all he saw was Chuck sitting on that bench. His stomach churned and his hands were both shaking and sweating.

Chuck was bent over, forearms on his knees and gaze on the ground. He appeared deep in thought.

“Chuck?”

He looked up, squinting a little at the bright sunlight. “Hi, Cas.” He sat back, glancing at the clear blue sky and the lush foliage around the bench. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Confusion welled up inside him and he looked around for someone else, _anyone_ else. There had to be someone besides Chuck here. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“Like who?”

“Like….” He looked away, disappointment zinging through him. Of course. Why should he have been so arrogant as to think he might really meet God face to face? “I never took Joshua for the practical joke type before.”

“Cas….” His voice changed as he continued, became deeper, more commanding. “Castiel. Child. Don’t you recognize me? Look at me.”

He looked…and fell to his knees as glory shone all around. Heat and light, peace and love encased him. It felt like those hugs Dean and others gave him, only complete. He felt…whole. God’s face was ever-shifting and yet fixed in features at the same time. “Have you been Chuck all along?”

God smiled wide. “No. Just when Chuck is enjoying time with the other prophets in heaven. Like…since the Apocalypse ended. There was no one to see him raised, so I borrowed his life for awhile.”

“Since the Apocalypse? Then, it was you….” No wonder Chuck had seemed ready to leave when he, Uzziel, and Abigael had gone to his house to take him to the wedding. It hadn’t been a surprise at all.

“At Dean and Jo’s wedding? Yes. Jo was beautiful and those vows were perfect.”

“There’s a real Chuck?” Seeing him as Chuck, he’d assumed…. What was that saying Dean told him about assuming? Something about a donkey?

“Of course. You’ve conversed with him several times.” He sat back on the bench, arms along the back of it, one ankle resting on opposite knee. “You may check, Castiel,” he said gently. “I won’t hide the prophet’s heavenly location from you any longer. Go on. Speak with Chuck. Ask him. Ask the others. They’ll confirm.”

“I believe you.”

He chuckled. “No, you don’t. You’re still afraid this is some elaborate practical joke at your expense or an illusion. See for yourself and then we’ll talk. I insist. To ease your mind.”

He found Chuck in heaven and in his own body, just like others. Chuck was willing to talk, glad to see him. 

“Cas! Man! Good to see you! Do you believe this? Me. Here. I got a chance to talk to Elijah. Elijah! His bodily raising? Way cooler than mine. He got a chariot and horses of fire and I got more of a ‘beam me up, Scotty’ sort of thing, but he’s not snobby about it. He’s really a down to earth guy, you know?”

Chuck asked about Sam and Dean, then Ellen and Jo. Of course, it turned out he’d known all along that Zachariah had raised Ellen and Jo, but he’d also known he wasn’t supposed to mention it or hint that they were alive.

“Why,” Cas demanded, mildly horrified that Jo and Ellen had been left to go through even a portion of Zachariah’s plan for them.

“Well…. Not everything is revealed to prophets, Cas. When I write, I don’t reveal plot points until they’re relevant and, at the time, Ellen and Jo were no longer relevant. They’d played their roles. The end of the Apocalypse had to be told and it didn’t include Jo and Ellen.”

“Not relevant.”

“Yeah, I guess they are now though, huh?”

“If Dean had known Jo was alive --”

“Everything has a purpose. You know that. We just might not see it.”

A thing Uzziel said all the time. Uzziel kept trying to find the purpose in things that had happened, but was there really? What possibly could have been the purpose for any of what had happened?

He left Chuck there and returned to the park. There were so many things he wanted to ask and he couldn’t decide where to begin.

God patted the bench beside him. “Sit. Relax. I promise you this’ll be painless.”

Slowly, he sat, not too close, but not at the end of the bench. “Why?” It was a blanket word really, meaning every why question running through his mind. Why had Jo and Ellen had to go through death and Zachariah’s plan? Why had Dean had to go through the loss and pain of losing Sam and feeling worthless? Why had Sam had to be soulless and then deal with regaining his soul? Why had Raphael had to murder other angels? Why…. “Why appear now? Why leave me without some clear idea of your will this entire time? I’ve been floundering up there --”

“Castiel, I’ve been with you the entire time, watching you, observing, noting what you do with the free will gift. You followed my will. Why do you think you were given the gift of further life? I could have left you as cosmic dust, but you alone out of all of those have kept faith.”

“Not entirely,” he said in a low voice.

“You mean your bender? You were frustrated and emotional, but beneath it all, your faith was still there. It wasn’t time for you to sit with me and talk, but it is now. Anything you wish to discuss we can.”

But his mind remained stubbornly blank on where to really begin.

God sighed. “I can see it’ll take awhile for you to gather your thoughts. Therefore, let’s begin with the special job I have for you and for those angels you’ve discovered are exceptional. You and Uzziel have done a beautiful job thus far, but there are still a few minor changes that need to be made before the unveiling.”

“Unveiling?”

“Yes. The new department. Let’s talk…angel and human relations.”

As God spoke, Castiel forgot his nervousness and finally began to see how the pieces were fitting together.

~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t leave as quickly as Dean had hoped and not because of either of the women. They were both ready. It was Sam who held them up, arranging and rearranging the trunk, going back in the house to bring out more weapons. The trunk was beginning to look like an armory -- more than usual anyway. While Dean was glad Sam was thinking things through, he was heading into extreme overkill.

Dean stepped beside him and contemplated the trunk. “Aren’t you ready yet?” He leaned over and moved a couple items, casting an inquiring glance up at him. “The Colt too, Sam? Really?”

He rested a hand on the trunk lid. “I just want to make sure we have everything we could possibly need to kill it.”

“I think you’ve covered that. There’s everything but the kitchen sink in here. Sure you don’t want to add that?”

“Depends. Would the kitchen sink work as a weapon? It’d be sort of bulky.”

He slapped Sam on the back. “Close it up. Let’s go. Burning daylight.”

With Jo’s need to pee every twenty minutes or thereabouts, Dean figured their time on the road was going to double. He thought they’d stop about every hour for Jo to stretch her legs (to help ward off varicose veins) and buy snacks (Jo claimed the baby needed to graze). The plan was to drive for the rest of the afternoon, stop for dinner and the night, and continue in the morning. He figured that after all of the stops they’d reach Battle Creek by tomorrow afternoon.

After that was the task of taking Ben home. Dean thought he and Jo would do it so Lisa wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. Taking Sam and Gwen as well might be a little too much for her to handle. They’d go to the door, wait to go in, and once Lisa had invited them inside to talk about it, they’d figure out what had sent Ben to him. Dean was still betting it was a new boyfriend or something like that. He wondered what had happened, why none of the men had worked out, and decided it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t his concern.

He glanced at Jo as they drove. Her current position pulled an amused smile from him. She’d wedged a little pillow behind the small of her back so she was leaning forward a fraction. Her doctor had mentioned she might find that having a pillow behind her back would help with any backaches she could get as her pregnancy progressed. Dr. Ames, a mother of three children herself, had been full of advice like that and so far, Dean thought she was a good choice. She’d answered their questions, even the ones he’d realized later had been stupid, and given them plenty to discuss and think about, like the necessity of prenatal vitamins. Dr. Ames said they were necessary. Jo disagreed. She’d force one down with a disgusted expression and melodramatic gagging noise. Had she remembered to bring those? He’d have to ask later.

Jo was writing on a legal pad. She smiled back at him and turned the legal pad, tapping one finger on it.

In glances, he read, ‘Talk to him. Be nice.’ Dean opened his mouth to protest that he’d been perfectly nice while having been upset, but Jo raised a finger at him and shook her head. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Ben was sitting with his arms crossed, staring out the window. “So. Ben. How was school this year?”

Ben looked at him, expression shifting into uncertainty. “Why do _you_ care?”

He winced at the tone. “Because I do. How was school?”

From Ben’s reaction Dean would think he’d asked something unreasonable. He sighed heavily. “Fine.”

“That’s good. It is. Did you like it?”

“No.”

“Oh. Have a favorite class?”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“English.”

He thought a minute. This had been easier once. His conversational skills with Ben appeared to have diminished and he grasped at the next thought that came into his mind. “You on the baseball team?”

“No.”

No? He’d loved baseball. He’d really looked forward to practice and the games. What had happened to change that? “Why not?”

Ben snorted. “Because.” He rolled his eyes.

Hmm. One word sullen answers. Dean remembered giving those himself as a teenager. “Good talk, Ben.”

“Right.”

He shot a dark glance Jo’s way. It was hopeless. There was no way to get that kid talking.

In response, she rolled her own eyes as if to say he’d done it all wrong. She shifted position so she could turn and see Ben. “What was it you liked about English? The books? The writing?”

For a moment, Dean thought Ben was going to give her the silent treatment, but then he spoke.

“Both, but I like writing. We had to write a fifteen page story and mine was picked to get sent into a statewide contest. I didn’t win, but it was in the top five entries for my grade.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cool. What was your story about?”

She made it sound so easy to draw him out. This, _this_ , was why she was going to be a great mom. Nurturing instinct, calm action in tense situations. Dean listened to the conversation as it progressed. While Ben seemed reluctant to talk to Jo, he _was_ talking and giving her more than one word answers.

‘Relax’, she wrote on the pad.

He tried again. “I guess your tastes changed. Happens to everyone. What’s interesting to you now?”

“Paintball.”

“Paintball is fun.”

“I’m good at it, too. Tommy and I go to the paintball place on the weekends.”

“What happened to make you not like baseball anymore,” Jo asked in an innocent tone.

“How did you know I liked it? I could’ve been on the team because my mom made me.”

“Dean mentioned it. You know, he does occasionally mention you, Ben.” She tapped her finger on the word ‘relax’ again.

He glanced at Jo. What was she doing? He didn’t remember telling her that and he tried _not_ to mention Ben or Lisa. Doing so might upset Jo and he didn’t want her upset any more than he wanted to _be_ upset.

“He does?”

In the rearview mirror, he could see Ben’s gaze flicking between him and Jo.

“Of course. Dean wonders how you’re doing and all of that.”

“I do,” he interjected, receiving an approving nod from Jo.

“Then why doesn’t he ever call?”

“Out of respect for your mom,” Dean said, receiving another approving nod and beginning to understand what she was doing. She was diffusing tension, getting Ben out of the sullen mood he was in. “Maybe we could have handled the breakup better, but we decided it was best to have a clean break for all of us.” 

“Oh.” He appeared to think that over. “I do still like baseball, but the team in Battle Creek sucks. The kids are all obnoxious and I didn’t like the coach. I like paintball.”

Jo wrote on the pad again and turned it so he could see it. ‘Apologize’ was written in big letters.

She wanted him to apologize? Didn’t he have every right to be upset? Ben had shown up without calling. Well….he’d tried calling. It had been Dean who hadn’t answered.

She tapped her finger on the page over and over.

He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier,” he said. “It surprised me when you showed up and I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I wouldn’t have had to come if you would’ve answered the phone to begin with.”

“That’s…that’s very true, but I….” How did he say he hadn’t answered because he’d been afraid it _was_ Ben or Lisa? That wouldn’t do Ben’s self-esteem any good.

Jo looked over the seat at Ben. “Ben, Dean lost his phone and we’d decided to switch carriers anyway for a better plan. More minutes, more perks. We both had to get new numbers and it’s a big old mess.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Amazing. From genial to snarling in a second. “You want to stop the attitude?”

“You’re not my dad.”

Jo sighed and abandoned her efforts, reaching for the tapes. “Let’s listen to some music.” She popped in the first tape she touched and they drove with the music loud enough to deter conversation for over an hour.

Dean pulled into the rest stop and turned off the car. A minute later, Sam and Gwen pulled up beside them. They were smiling and laughing as they left the car, obviously having a much better time thus far than Dean, Jo, and Ben were. Dean got out and went around to the passenger side.

Ben opened the door, gaze following Sam and Gwen as they walked over. “I want to ride with Sam and Gwen,” he blurted out. He slammed the door. “I really want to.”

Surprise slid over Sam’s face. He leaned against the car and slid his hands in his pockets. “It’s fine with me.”

“I don’t mind,” Gwen said, sliding an arm about Sam’s waist and resting her cheek against his arm. “Could be fun.”

“No. You’re staying right in that backseat where I can keep an eye on you.”

Jo closed the door and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, giving a gentle tug. “Take a walk with me.”

He caught Sam’s attention and gestured at Ben with one finger. “Watch him. Jo and I are taking a walk.”

They strolled the rest area, Jo leading him slowly behind the building out of sight. Once they were hidden from view, she stopped him. “Let him ride with them.”

“Why?”

“Think a minute, Dean. Yes, he’d expected that you’d moved on, but to actually see and meet your wife, who is pregnant with your child? You lived with them for a year. You were a father to him for that long. What do you think his attitude is all about? He wasn’t prepared to _see_ evidence that you’d moved on. And to sit in a car with us for hours, the both of us together? He’s hurting. He might even be thinking you’d forgotten about him.”

“That’s what the whole ‘Dean still thinks about you’ bit was for?”

“Yes. Not to mention it’s the truth. You do still think about him. About them.”

“I don’t,” he tried to deny, but Jo shook her head.

“Dean, it’s okay. I know you do. I think it’s normal. You have a history with them. It’s normal to wonder about people you were close to once. Let him ride with Sam and Gwen for awhile. Let him get to know Sam. I think he needs to see that Sam wasn’t the villain who ripped you away from him.”

“Jo.” He grasped her shoulders. “Honey, I love that you’re concerned for him when this whole situation has got to be hurting you, but --”

“I don’t particularly like that he showed up, no. I don’t like the situation at all. However, we’re in the middle of it and the only way to deal with it is to deal with it.” She gestured in the direction of the cars. “That kid over there has issues with how your year with them ended, it’s obvious. I think some of it can be fixed.”

“You’re so understanding.” And patient. She had patience in spades. He skimmed his hands down and around to her back.

Jo laughed and shook her head. “No, I’m not. That’s the thing, Dean. I really just want to put him on a bus, send him home, and forget all about him. Or let Sam and Gwen take him home. I don’t want to deal with this. We have our own things to deal with right now, we don’t need him too.”

“Why don’t we let Sam and Gwen take him? We’ll let them….” He swallowed hard. He already knew the answer to that. He’d said it himself back at the house. “Not their responsibility.”

“Nope. And I keep thinking…what if Ben’s right and Lisa is in danger? Can we turn our backs no matter what went on between you and how it ended? It wouldn’t be right. It’s against my personal oath as a hunter.”

“You have an oath?”

“Sure. Help the helpless in a way that’d make my dad proud.”

“That’s a good oath. Simple and to the point.”

“It is. Not helping if she needs help, even though I don’t want anything to do with her, would be wrong. I’d be ignoring my own oath and I can’t do that.”

“You know Ben’s manipulating you, right?” He raised his brows to punctuate the words. “Lisa isn’t in danger.”

“Maybe he is and maybe she isn’t, but it won’t hurt him to ride with them for awhile. Gwen’s good with kids, too. He’ll be okay with them.” She rested her hands on his ribs. “If Lisa isn’t in danger, this is a cry for attention, which means he needs help. And if she is in danger, it’s cry for help. Either way, that kid needs help. If it’s the former, we sit down with her and him and address whatever it was that sent him running across the country to you. If it’s the latter, we deal with it.”

“It’s not the latter. He’s done this before. Ben has a history of crying wolf.”

“Sure. I get that.” She nodded, sliding her hands up and to the back of his neck. “But even the boy who cried wolf really saw a wolf once and when no one believed him, the wolf killed him. What if she’s in danger?”

“She’s not and yes, I’m sure.” He pressed his forehead to hers for a few seconds.

“I’m glad you’re so certain, because I’m not. He’s scared of something and I don’t think it’s your temper or whatever punishment she’ll come up with. We deal with this and then it’s done, it’s over. We’ll be done with Lisa Braeden. If they want the name of a hunter in case something happens, we give them several referrals and insist they lose our number and Ben forget how to find us. Step back from this emotionally and look at it as a hunter, not a man upset because he has to see the ex he thought he’d put behind him.”

Dean closed his eyes and tried. Really he did. He couldn’t be objective. Opening his eyes again, he said, “I can’t, Jo. I can’t distance myself. I’m trying and it’s not working. The past is getting in the way.”

“Okay.” Her hands raised, cupping his face, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks in a slow caress. “Okay. I’ll tell you what I see. I see a boy terrified his mother is going to die and very afraid the one man he trusts to deal with the bad things won’t deal with it.”

“I’m not convinced Lisa is in any danger.”

“We’ll sort it out. It’s one or the other.”

She sounded so certain.

They ended up driving later than he’d planned, and when they did stop for the night, Sam and Gwen offered to go get pizza while Jo rested. Ben opted to go with them, giving Dean a chance to have a quiet moment with Jo. Ben really seemed to be warming up to Sam, a thing that surprised Dean, as Ben had been as standoffish towards Sam as Lisa had always been.

Jo put her pajamas on and laid on the bed, putting her feet up on the headboard. “You know this putting my legs up at night thing? Really helps with the water retention. I thought it was stupid at first.”

She didn’t have water retention, but if it made her feel better to put her feet up at night, he was all for it. He sat beside her. “You given any more thought to names?”

“Always. Chloe Elizabeth for a girl or Marion Phillip for a boy.”

“Marion? Really? Do you _want_ him to get beat up?”

She laughed. “Dean!”

“Do you go through that name book and look for the names you know I won’t like? You do, don’t you? All of your combinations have been weird.”

“What are your top picks then-- and don’t say any form of Mary, John, Sam, Dean, Robert, Joanna, or Ellen this time.”

“I have nothing. No, wait. Josephus Augustus for a boy and Martika Sharona for a girl.”

She shook her head. “Now who’s going through the name book and choosing names at random?”

“We have plenty of time to pick a name.” He liked to tease her with strange names in odd combinations and suspected that was what she’d been doing. Surely she hadn’t been serious about Leslie Thomas for a boy? Or Persephone Marianna for a girl?

“I’d like to have it narrowed down to at least a couple different choices by blast-off.”

“We will. I’m kind of partial to Jack.”

“It’s a form of John, Dean.”

“Not an obvious one.”

“Jack, huh?” She gasped. “Feel it, feel it, feel it!” Delight lit Jo’s eyes and then she was pressing his hand firmly to her belly, a little to the side. Beneath his palm was a real push.

“Was that…?”

Jo grinned and laughed. “Yeah. Oh! He’s like really kicking hard, too!”

“Guess Jack is a winner then.” He shoved her shirt up and stared at the spot, rewarded after a moment by the actual sight of that extremity pushing at Jo. He ran a finger over it. “Hey, baby,” Dean whispered. “Don’t kick your mama too hard, okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Feels a little strange, but I think I’m already getting used to it.”

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss there, then laid beside her. “I can’t imagine missing this. I know I’ve missed a lot already by being out with Sam --”

“Sshh.” She put a finger to his lips, stopping the words. “You’re doing your job. It’s good you’re out there with Sam. It’s an important thing you’re doing and I don’t want it any other way, okay? Can we please move past this?”

Touching her cheek, he smoothed his fingers along her skin and tangled them in her hair. She was so beautiful. It seemed like she grew more so with each day that passed and it still amazed him that she was finally his. “Why did it take us so long, Jo?”

He knew why. Circumstances hadn’t been right and when she’d been ready he hadn’t. They’d simply not been in sync until her true memories had been returned to her.

“We had to find our right time, right place,” she replied.

They’d most definitely found it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo stayed awake after Dean fell asleep, unable to drift off. She didn’t want to meet Lisa, yet neither was she willing to let Dean go in alone. He needed a support system by his side to face that part of his past. Her stomach was upset and it wasn’t heartburn or any of the other fun things being pregnant could cause. It was pure nerves. Her mind kept going through all of the possibilities of what could happen during their meeting with Lisa. She imagined Lisa being a nice person, she imagined her saying something snide, and she imagined everything in-between, attempting to mentally prepare herself for anything. Dean and Sam’s views on Lisa were admittedly biased in Dean’s favor and while she was trying not to have a preconceived notion of how the woman was, it was too late. She already didn’t like her and just knew it was going to be mutual.

Please let it go easily, she prayed. Dean needs this to be easy.

She shifted onto her side. It was no longer possible to sleep on her stomach. Her belly had gotten too big for that to be comfortable anymore. Not that she was huge, because she wasn’t. Doctor Ames had said she was doing fine and it was only that she was petite to begin with that made her seem like she’d put on more weight than she should. She and the baby were exactly where they should be.

Dean liked the changing shape of her body, running his hands over her just as much, if not more, than he did before she’d gotten pregnant. Since coming to grips with her pregnancy, he’d thrown himself into learning what he could, reading the books she’d gotten from the library, spouting facts he’d read like it was fascinating stuff, and amusing everyone around them. She couldn’t wait for it to be over and the baby to be born. In her mind, she could see Dean holding their child, rocking him, caring for him….

She rolled back onto her back. There were so many decisions they had yet to make, from the birth to after. It was somewhat daunting how many decisions were involved in having a baby.

“Can’t sleep?” Sam’s voice came from the direction of the table, soft and low. He’d offered to stay up and make sure Ben didn’t sneak out or anything and Gwen would take the next watch at about three.

Jo got up carefully and joined him. “A little insomnia. It’s funny, you know? I’ve faced all sorts of creatures, come back from the dead and dealt with that, but I’m nervous about meeting _her_ ,” she admitted. “Out of all the things to be nervous about, that’s the one that gets me.”

He closed the lid on his laptop, frowning. “Why?”

“A lot of history between them.”

“A lot of history between you and Dean, too. More now in total days than what he spent with her.”

“I’m still nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He slid the laptop aside. “Dean’s got you now.”

“He was with her for a year.”

“But you’re the one he married. I think that speaks for itself.”

She put her chin in her hands and smiled at him. The words, spoken in such a calm, affectionate way, quelled her nerves. “Thanks, Sam.”

He returned her smile. “You’re my favorite sister-in-law.”

“I’m your only sister-in-law.”

“You’re still my favorite.” He crossed his arms on the table. “You and Dean work because you both share similar ideals and have a similar background. You get each other and what you have is good for both of you. You support him and encourage him in so many ways, Jo. He needs that.”

Reaching out a hand, she touching his arm. “I don’t do it alone, you know. You’re a big part of his life, too, and I’m very glad for that.”

“I’m glad Dean and I’ve mended things. It was bad for awhile, but we can laugh now and that’s a good thing.” He studied her, gaze growing serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask and you don’t have to answer…. What’s it like being pregnant?”

“Weird,” she answered promptly. “Um…. I don’t know, Sam. It’s…amazing. I have a tiny human being in my stomach. How strange does that sound? Dean and I actually _made_ a person. A little him, a little me, mixed into a completely new person altogether. It’s an awesome responsibility. You know, my mom was totally right, too. The day I told Dean and he freaked out, I was freaking out myself.”

“I remember. You were pretty distraught.”

“She told me not to worry, that Dean would make the right decision and he’d be back soon.” Ellen had been certain, holding Jo, rocking her, insisting that Dean was going to do right in the end.

“And he was.”

“He was. I was worried I wouldn’t feel love for the baby because it wasn’t planned, but she said that once I feel the baby move, it’ll all rush over me and I’ll be so in love with this baby that that’s it. She was right. I love this baby.” She touched her stomach, smoothed her shirt over it. “Boy or girl doesn’t matter, though I wouldn’t mind a boy with Dean’s eyes and his mischievous grin.”

“Hate to break it to you, Jo, but he’s hoping for a girl.”

“I know. Tries to hide it, but I think he’s picturing a little girl in a frilly little dress running up to him and holding out her arms, yelling, ‘Daddy!’ for him to pick her up. I thought he’d want a son. Don’t most guys want a son? Wouldn’t you want a son? Hypothetically. If you and say, Gwen, someday…. Wouldn’t you want a boy?”

He grinned and looked over to where Gwen was asleep. He no longer flinched when kids were mentioned and Jo wondered if that had to do with the talk he and Gwen had had. “Um…hypothetically, I guess a boy would be fine, but girls are unknown territory. Honestly, I think Dean just wants a little girl because he thinks she’ll be like you.”

Jo snorted. “Heaven help us if we do. I was a holy terror. I certainly wouldn’t want a kid like I was. I got in more trouble for the strangest things.”

Sam laughed. “You, Jo? I just don’t see that.”

She nodded. “Ask my mother. She’ll gladly regale you with stories of my stubbornness as a little girl and continue her stories all the way up to the present. Some things I’m never going to live down.”

“Aren’t you scared? I don’t mean just about the birth, but about all of it?”

“Hell yeah. With as many ways as it’s possible to screw up a kid? I’m terrified and Dean’s putting on a good front, but he’s just as terrified as I am.” She shifted position. “Are you really checking out a lead on a case tomorrow?”

“Family lives in a suburb of Chicago. We’ll pass right by. I can stop in, talk to them, and meet you in Battle Creek perhaps an hour maybe two at most behind you. Although between Dean’s obsessive stops every hour and his lead foot, I may actually beat you all there.”

“You’re on the witch case.”

“I am.” He nodded. “I’ve got all but a little bit put together, a couple things I’m not clear on.” He jerked his head towards the bed. “You should try to sleep. You’re going to need your strength for when the meeting with Lisa is over and Dean tries to send you and Gwen home while we finish this case.”

“You think he will?”

“Oh, I know he will.” The way he said it was like he knew without one single doubt.

“Sam?”

“Try to sleep, Jo, okay?”

She got back into bed and when she woke up it was to Gwen complaining that Sam hadn’t woken her for her shift. He’d stayed up the entire night, watching over all of them.

~~~~~~~~~~

The past hours had been a revelation to Ben in many ways. The first was that seeing Dean as someone else’s family hurt. It really hurt, as in physical pain in his chest. Ben still thought of Dean as the father he wanted -- he was cool, had a cool job, and Ben still wanted to be like Dean.

He slid into the booth beside Jo and picked up a menu to study. Gwen slid beside him and Sam sat beside her and across from Dean.

“That’s all you’re planning on eating?” Dean glanced at Jo. “Fruit?”

“I’m not that hungry this morning, Dean.”

“You feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure the baby doesn’t want anything?” He quirked a brow, his tone teasing. “They’ve got Belgian waffles.”

Her smile was affectionate. “The baby isn’t communicating any particular wants at present, although he’s going to want cheese popcorn at the next gas station we stop at.”

“Sure it isn’t mommy that wants it?”

Jo made a noise of protest. “Dean, that hurts. I’m trying to nourish our child here. How can I say no to cheese popcorn?”

“Cheese popcorn it is. Did you take your vitamin?”

“Yes, Dean, I took my horse pill.”

“You need to put your feet up?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “No. I don’t have to pee, don’t need a nap since I just woke up, and I’m not thirsty, though orange juice sort of does sound good right now. Maybe I’ll have that.”

Ben stayed as quiet as possible. The second revelation was that Dean was different with Jo than he’d been with Ben’s mom. He was relaxed and the emotion on both their faces when they looked at each other reminded Ben of the way his grandparents looked at each other. They really loved each other and Ben was uncomfortable, feeling very much like an outsider despite how they all tried to make him feel at ease.

“You’re sure you took the vitamin?”

“Dean.”

“Just checking.” His gaze turned to Ben, a serious air falling over him. “How long before Lisa realizes you’re not on that camping trip?”

“Several days. I made sure to wait until they were leaving before talking to them so they wouldn’t have called the house.”

Dean poured more coffee into his cup. “What kind of group was it? Boy Scouts?”

“No, it was a father-son group. My dad had cancelled anyway, but I still could’ve gone.”

“Your dad?” Dean was surprised and looked a bit shocked. “When did he….”

“He showed up a few months ago wanting legal rights to see me. He and mom are in the middle of a legal battle over it. They argue on the phone all the time. He lives a couple hours away.”

“He just showed up?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a half-sister and she’s kind of cool.”

“Step-mom?”

“No, she died in a car accident years ago.” He wasn’t supposed to know how his dad had originally taken the DNA test and run off when the results had come in. Nor was he supposed to know about how his dad had decided he’d wanted to get to know his son after all. There were a lot of things he wasn’t supposed to know. 

“What’s he do?”

“He’s a paramedic I think.”

“That’s an intense job,” Sam said. “Is that why he cancelled?”

“I don’t know. Mom just said he wasn’t coming to pick me up.” Ben turned his attention fully to Sam, dismissing thoughts of his dad. Sam was a nice guy, like seriously nice. Yet another revelation. He still wasn’t sure he liked him. Sam had been the reason Dean had left. His mom had said. Sam had come back and Dean left. The nicer Sam was, the guiltier Ben felt for having disliked him without having really met him.

He’d sort of liked riding with Sam and Gwen. They included him in the conversations and didn’t treat him like a kid. They’d made the hours fun.

Jo was nice, too. Ben wanted to hate her. He wanted to despise her. She was where his mom had been in Dean’s life only with a permanency to it Lisa hadn’t had. Dean had committed to Jo in a way he never had to Lisa. Yet Ben couldn’t hate Jo and felt more than a little disloyal to his mom because of that. He shouldn’t like the woman who’d replaced her. 

Still…. Jo was cool. She and Gwen both. They were both women hunters and must kick serious monster ass if they’d stayed alive in it their entire lives. It was awesome that women could do the job. Why hadn’t he realized it before? Of course a woman could be a hunter! He thought Tommy was going to love hearing that. She liked this stuff, too. Maybe someday they could be hunters together, slaying monsters and saving the world.

Dean would hate that. He didn’t want Ben to do that. Ben frowned with a sudden thought, glance falling on Jo’s stomach. Was Dean going to let the baby grow up hunting? After all, Jo was a hunter, too, and it didn’t sound like she planned to retire from it completely to be a mom.

He ordered the chocolate chip pancakes, his introspective bent continuing. 

There was more to what had happened between his mom and Dean than he knew about. That was obvious now. There had been more to cause their break than Sam coming back into Dean’s life. Yes, Sam had asked Dean to hunt. Yes, Dean had gone. Both were facts. But Sam didn’t seem selfish and inconsiderate. In fact, he appeared to be the very opposite of that and not what Ben had ever expected at all.

“Ben?”

He looked up to find his food had come and Sam was leaning over, syrup container in hand. “Syrup on those,” he asked, proffering the spouted jar.

“Yeah.” He took it, then nodded. “Thanks, Sam.”

He saw Dean and Jo exchange a baffled glance and spent the rest of the meal carefully concentrating on his food. 


	37. Chapter 37

Gwen was upset with him for letting her sleep. It wasn’t just a momentary annoyance to her, but something that was really upsetting her. She’d signed up to do a watch cycle and he’d made the unilateral decision to not let her do that. He’d overruled her and it pissed her off. She made no bones about it. 

Sam watched her as they ate. She was definitely in a mood and he supposed he was going to have to break down and tell her the reason he’d let her sleep. It was pretty much the same reason he’d told Jo to go to sleep. Later in the day, he was going to try to help Dean convince Jo to go to safety and was going to do the same with Gwen. It was only fair in his opinion that both women be well-rested and prepared to fight them on it.

Once he was sure the witches were in Battle Creek, the safest place for Gwen would be taking Jo back home. It wasn’t that he thought she couldn’t take care of herself or that Jo couldn’t take care of herself. They both could. He knew that very well. They were both accomplished hunters, capable at doing what they had to. It was just that he didn’t want Gwen or Jo to have to fight the witches and either the god or demon they were raising. It would absolutely gut Dean if Jo and the baby got hurt and as for Gwen….

Sam may call her ‘Pollyanna’, but the truth was, he needed that from her, just like Dean needed Jo’s certainty that everything would work out somehow. He looked at Gwen and saw far more than a girlfriend, but rather an intimate partner on this personal part of his path in life. She seemed to understand him, his fears and concerns, and never made him feel like they were trivial. She never made him feel less than what he was and he knew that being with her made him a better man.

She’d become his Jo.

He almost laughed to himself as he watched Dean and Jo across the table. Jo complemented Dean and he’d begun to realize that Gwen complemented him. Everything he’d told Dean about Jo applied to Gwen with himself. She added a lightheartedness to a life that had known far too much pain and sorrow.

It was a good feeling.

Sam loved her. He could admit it now to himself. His feelings were love, of the sort he’d never thought he’d ever feel again.

He imagined Jess telling him she was happy for him and all night long, during those late hours after Jo had finally slept and all had been silent, he’d thought about Jess and said a sort of mental good bye to her. He’d thought about their relationship and all she’d meant to him…then let her go. It was a long time coming, but he hadn’t quite been able to do it until now. He’d always love her. Of course he would. She was his first genuine love. She’d been a part of him for a very long time, but it was time to admit that there was an earthly future for him available. He didn’t have to leave part of himself in the grave with Jess. If Dean could learn to live to the fullest extent, he could as well. It might take him longer, but he could do it.

Oddly, he felt like he was breaking a protective chrysalis about himself and emerging from it a changed being.

When it was time to split up, Sam led Gwen behind the car Ben had brought and tugged her to him. “Be careful.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ sort of careful.”

She sighed and slid her hands up to his shoulders and higher, clasping them at the back of his neck. “You gonna tell me what this is about?”

“What what’s about?”

“The extra weapons, the hyper-sensitivity to everything around us, the letting me sleep instead of waking me up for my shift. Don’t think I’m not seeing it. I grew up seeing this every year of my life. You’re on red alert, Sam, and I want to know why. Tell me. You’re jumpy and you’re trying to cover it up. If Dean and Jo weren’t so distracted by Ben and the question of whether or not he’s lying, they’d have called you on this already. It’s the witch case, isn’t it? What have you found out?”

He cast a glance at the Impala, where Dean, Jo, and Ben were waiting for her. “Dean did notice.”

“And?”

“And,” he lowered his mouth to her ear, “the 1977 sacrifice was supposed to be Lisa, as in Lisa Ben’s mother.”

“You’re sure?” She drew back a fraction to look in his eyes.

“I am, though I’m double checking. That’s where I’m going this morning. I’ve got an appointment to see her father and discuss her abduction as a newborn.”

“Sam.” Gwen shook her head. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t. She’s connected, like you are. You share a birth date and time and to be honest, the only reason I didn’t insist you stay back at base is I was afraid they’d track you there. I want you safe and right now, while I don’t know where the witches are exactly, I think you’re safer with all of us than alone.”

“She really is in danger.” Gwen glanced at the Impala and back at him. “Ben was right.”

“I think so. I also think the witch, the _coven_ , tried the direct route first: that invitation Ben mentioned. I think they’d planned to lure her and kill her, but they’re keeping an eye on her in case she doesn’t cooperate.”

“What about the woman who looks like her? Shapeshifter?”

“That’s the highest possibility. Or the situation could have attracted a doppelganger and it’s a toss-up as to which’ll get her first.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair. “Cheery proposition.”

“Ben thinks July second is the day they’ll kill her.”

“Today is June thirtieth.”

“The pattern is girls born on June second at five a.m., sacrificed approximately a month later. My research supports it. I showed all but the clipping about Lisa to Dean before we left and he agrees the pattern is there.”

“Why didn’t you show him the one about her?”

“Because I have to be completely certain, without one doubt before I give him this and we head in to protect her. I have to have no doubt that she’s a part of it.”

“It sounds like you’re already there.”

“I need to see her father, get it from him.” He could see Dean getting antsy, tapping a foot, looking at his watch. “What I need from you is, if I’m not there when you get to Battle Creek, don’t let Dean and Jo take Ben home until I get there. Find a motel, lay low.”

Dean leaned over through the open window and blared the horn, then straightened, arms spreading. “Come on,” he yelled. “Kiss him already and get in the car, Gwen!”

Sam touched her face, tracing the line of her jaw before curving a hand along her neck. “Look, I need to go or I’ll be late for the meeting. Stay with them, please. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t take the chance that they’re there and they could know who you are on sight. We don’t know what Samuel gave them on you, if anything. They might know exactly what you look like.” It wouldn’t surprise him to learn Samuel had given them everything he knew about Gwen, including a picture.

“Okay.”

“No, Gwen, I really mean it. Lay low.”

“Sam, I get that. I’ll --”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, trying to convey in seconds how deeply he felt for her before releasing her. He swept his thumb along her lower lip. “I love you.” Before she could respond and he could rethink his impulsive declaration, he got into the car and drove away.

~~~~~~~~~~

__

I love you.

He loved her.

Gwen stood, stunned. It wasn’t that she’d doubted how deep Sam’s feelings might be for her, merely that she hadn’t expected to hear those words any time soon. He was cautious with any declaration of feeling -- understandably. A giddy warmth fluttered inside her chest and spread throughout her body as Dean honked the horn again. Sam Winchester loved her. She turned and walked towards the Impala, fighting the urge to grin in a purely sappy manner.

Dean opened the driver’s door and paused, looking at her. “You okay?”

“I think Supergirl is having an off day,” she managed.

“She’s allowed. Batman’s on his game. What’s up?”

If she wanted to tell him, he’d listen. He had that expression, where it was obvious to her that a part of him was willing to stall the rest of the trip. His brows were raised, an expectant gleam in his eyes. Gwen thought about what Sam had told her about Lisa and shook her head. It was Sam’s conclusion. He was the one with the facts and the story on Lisa. Without exactly what Sam knew, Gwen couldn’t tell Dean. Nor was she comfortable telling him Sam had confessed his love. She licked her lips. “He’s being mysterious about the witch case.”

“Yeah, he has been lately. Sounds like he’s about got it all figured out though, so that’s good.”

If only you knew, she thought. “Sure.” Sort of. 

“He thinks we’ll wrap it up pretty quickly after this family interview.”

“It’d be nice if it was quick.” Gwen had her doubts. Nothing was ever quick. She opened her door. “Hey, do you mind if I steal Jo for a few games of cards?”

“What, and Ben sit up with me?”

“It’d be a nice change for all of you.”

He nodded. “Ask Jo. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

A few minutes later, they were on the road and Gwen waited until Dean and Ben were talking before leaning closer to Jo over their cards. “He said it,” she told her softly.

“Said what?” Jo glanced up from her cards, eyes widening. “The ‘l’ word?”

Gwen nodded. “He just said it and drove away.”

She grinned. “Gwen, that’s great!”

“It is.”

“It may take those two forever, but let me tell you, they’re worth the wait.”

Jo was right. The Winchester men were worth the time it took to build something with them. Gwen thought about how lucky she was that she’d been accepted into their circle. It wasn’t anyone who could earn their trust, especially in recent times.

“Have you said it to him? You did, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I never expected him to say it back. Well…at least not for a long time.” She leaned closer, voice lowering further. “Jo, he told me something he found out about the case.” Glancing to the front of the Impala, she found Ben and Dean deep in a discussion of their own.

“Something….” Her brows rose, the pitch of her voice matching Gwen’s. “Something he’s not ready for us to know?”

She jerked her head in Dean’s direction.

Jo interpreted that in a second and when she replied, her voice was barely audible. “He’s not ready for Dean to know.”

“No.”

“Lay it on me.”

“You can’t say anything. Sam’s double checking and I think it’s probably more like quadruple checking knowing him.”

She made a cross gesture on her chest. “Cross my heart.”

Gwen flicked a finger in Ben’s direction. “Mom was the ‘77 failed abduction. Fits the criteria, all of it.”

Her lips parted, eyes going very wide open. Jo’s fingers tightened on the cards and she slapped them down. “Crapsticks!”

“Everything okay back there,” Dean asked.

Gwen met his gaze in the rearview mirror and smirked. “I won the first round.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t get her too riled, Gwen.” 

“Would I do that,” she replied as sweetly as possible.

“Without a single doubt. You’re trouble that way,” Dean replied, but returned his attention to Ben.

Jo snatched up the cards, shuffled, and dealt. “You are not serious,” she hissed. “That,” it was obvious she was searching for a word and discarding each one, “ _person_ ….” She took two turns without allowing Gwen to go and completely disregarded the rules of the game. “Seriously? _Seriously_?” She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “I get why he didn’t say anything yet. The kid’s right. They’re there. Damn it!” She slapped her cards down, snatched all of them up and shuffled again while Gwen still held cards in her hand. “I was hoping to have a quick resolution to get on with the case and this changes that.”

It definitely changed everything. Ben was right, Lisa was in danger, and they were heading right for the witches, which meant Sam and Dean were going to try to convince them to leave as soon as they knew for sure the witches were there. She understood now why Sam had let her sleep. He’d planned to let her have a fair fight.

“We’ll have to stay until we finish the case.” Jo set her cards down, resolution simmering in her eyes. “We’ll have to….” She touched Gwen’s hand, glance raising to her. “Gwen.” 

“I know.” She could see Jo realizing that it wasn’t just Lisa in danger. Gwen could be as well. If the witches knew who Gwen was and were definitely in Battle Creek, then she could be a target from the second they arrived in town. “Sam’s worried Samuel gave the witches a picture of me.” 

“You think he did?”

“I think Samuel did what Samuel thought was in his best interests.” She nodded. “Yeah, I think he gave them a picture of me.”

She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d given them a whole damn album full.

Jo looked out the back window. “You and her both. Son of a bitch.”

The words aptly summed up Gwen’s own thoughts on it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something was up with Gwen, but it didn’t look like she was wanting to share it, so Dean let it go. He glanced in the rearview mirror as he drove. Gwen and Jo were talking in that low sort of voice women used when they were divulging secrets, voices so low a dog would have trouble hearing them. It was no use trying to eavesdrop, so he tried to keep a conversation going with Ben. It was easier today than it had been the previous afternoon.

“Why don’t you tell me about your dad?”

“Like what?” He looked up from the box of tapes.

“Like whatever you know. What happened when you met him the first time. What he’s like. Those kind of things.”

“Well…. He’s okay, I guess. I haven’t really spent much time with him. It took weeks to get this camping trip together. Mom didn’t like it, her lawyer got involved, then his lawyer, and they finally decided two weeks of camping, fishing, and bonding over smores was acceptable. He said it’d be like an adventure and I sort of wanted to go.”

“Camping can be an adventure,” Dean agreed. Especially the sort of camping Dean usually ended up doing: heavy on tracking various creatures and light on the fun stuff. He wondered if Jo liked camping. They’d never really discussed it before.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ben set the tapes aside. 

Jo’s voice came loud from the backseat, “Crapsticks!”

It didn’t look like anything was wrong exactly and Gwen gave him a bit of sass, so he decided they were okay. They could be discussing anything knowing those two.

“Dean? Why did he wait so long to find me? Why didn’t he want me to begin with? What changed his mind?”

Heavy topic. Dean considered all of the factors involved that he knew about. Ben should be having this conversation with his dad, not Dean. “Maybe when you were born, he wasn’t ready to be a dad. Too young, too immature, unable to handle the responsibility. It might not have been that he didn’t want you, Ben, but that he was too scared to step up and do the right thing. Then later…. You said his wife died in a car accident, right? Maybe it was a wish of hers that he find you and get to know you.”

“But I never met her.”

“You sure about that? Maybe you did and never knew it. She could have been the one to find you originally, met you, and thought you and he would be good for each other. Or maybe your dad thought it was time both his kids get to know each other and he got to know you. How old is your half-sister?”

“Nine.”

“Nine’s a good age. You could talk to him. Ask him those things. I think if he really wants to have a relationship with you, he’ll try to explain at least one of those answers to you.”

“Do you think?”

“From what you’ve said, it sounds like he turned into a real good guy. Give him a chance.”

Ben was quiet a minute, then slid a careful glance towards the backseat. “Dean?”

Jo and Gwen were whispering back and forth, but he still couldn’t hear what they were saying. “Yeah?”

“What happened between you and mom?”

He took a breath. “It didn’t work out.”

“I _know_ that.” He rolled his eyes. “I mean, what specifically happened? I thought Sam came back and made you leave us. I thought it was Sam, but I’ve been talking to Sam and he’s not like that. I don’t think he’d do that.”

“He wouldn’t,” Dean agreed softly.

“So why did you leave? What really happened? Please? I’m not a kid, Dean. You know I’m not.”

He considered the things he could say and finally settled on the very bare bones of it. “Basically, your mother and I weren’t compatible. Beneath everything, I’m not the sort of man she really wanted with the sort of life she wanted. We tried to work it out, but the life I have to lead for my job isn’t the one she’s comfortable in.”

Ben watched him with that half adult gaze and didn’t reply, but that conversation lessened a bit of the tension that had been in the air. Some of the sullenness disappeared from Ben and by the time they reached Battle Creek, taking him home didn’t seem like much of a chore anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon leaving the Braeden home, Sam drove like Dean usually did to try to catch up with them. It had taken him longer than he’d anticipated to talk to Lisa’s parents. They hadn’t wanted to admit what had happened until he’d made it clear that the perpetrator was still stealing children and they could be a key to stopping him or her. Then, the entire story had come out and Sam’s stomach felt like it was flopping in sick waves inside him.

He was right; right about Lisa and how she fit. She’d been born June second at five in the morning and had gone missing the next day. It had been days later before a couple had brought Lisa to the hospital with a story for the staff and police that they’d discovered the baby girl in an alley. Privately, the couple had warned the Braden family that their daughter would remain in danger due to her birth day and time. Advice had been given and the shaken parents had taken it as best they could.

He wondered why the rescuers hadn’t helped them with the process, then dismissed it. How often did he and Dean or any other hunters stick around to clean up? It rarely happened, though he knew Jo, Ellen, and Gwen had done it a few times in the case of children left orphaned. The hunters in ’77 would have done what they all did: left when the job was done, leaving a mess behind.

Sam let loose with a few strings of curses Dean would have thoroughly appreciated, peppering in a few words in German he’d learned from Gwen. Was meeting Lisa a destiny thing? It sure seemed like it. Even if Ben hadn’t arrived wanting help, Sam would have come across that article anyway. He would have checked her out to see if anything strange was happening, like he’d planned to do with the survivor from ‘97.

He drew out his phone and dialed, talking before Dean could say anything.

“Dean, don’t take Ben home.”

“What? Why not?”

“Look, we were going to wait until morning anyway, so just…wait until I get there, okay?”

“Sam, what’s wrong?”

“I think Ben might be right, but there’s so much more going on than we thought.”

“Talk to me.”

“When I get there.”

He felt like there was an hourglass shifting sand around them and they were quickly running out of time.

Sam didn’t mince words upon joining them at the motel. He laid it all out. Gwen wasn’t surprised because he’d already told her and he noticed that Jo wasn’t surprised either. Gwen had probably shared it with her. To Ben’s credit, he listened and didn’t speak, taking in all of the information Sam had pulled together with a thoughtful frown. Dean looked like he’d been punched in the stomach when Sam revealed that Lisa was part of the cycle and Sam sent an apologetic glance his way. “I’m sorry, Dean. I had to be certain before I told you. I didn’t want any doubt from any of us that she needs protection. Ben did a good thing by finding us. He did a smart thing and I think we’re here just in time.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “You’re positive?”

“I talked to her parents. I think it was the probably Neal and Patricia who rescued Lisa.”

He nodded. “Okay. Okay.” With a deep breath, he sat beside Ben on the edge of one bed. “Sam’s right. You did a good, smart thing.”

“You didn’t believe me.”

“I do now.”

Gwen cleared her throat. “So they’re here. What’s our next move?”

Sam braced himself for an argument. “Our next move is you going home.”

“I am not.”

“You are too.”

“Let’s see you try and make me.”

“I could you know,” Sam told Gwen, mentally attempting to figure out how exactly he’d manage that.

“Don’t think you’re going to drag me in as an accomplice,” Jo announced, quashing that brief idea as she sat next to Dean. “I won’t keep her tied up in the trunk for the drive, not to mention I’m not leaving either.”

Dean put his arm about Jo’s shoulders. “I’d feel better if you went home. If you both did.”

“I’m not leaving.” Gwen crossed her arms and gave the appearance of having every intention of fighting tooth and nail to stay. “I know the risks, Sam. No caveman, remember?”

“I just want you safe.”

“I get that.” She moved close, set her hands on his chest a second, then smoothed them across his chest. “I understand that.”

Jo slanted a pointed glance Dean’s direction. “I’m not leaving either, so keep that thought right outta your head.”

“Jo.” Dean leaned down and whispered something in her ear.

She drew back and shook her head. “Sweetheart, there’s no way you two are getting rid of us. Besides, I said ‘not alone’ and I meant it. You can’t make either of us leave.”

“Gwen.” Sam tried puppy dog eyes, to which Gwen raised her brows and squared her jaw.

“You need us here. Both of us. How are you going to protect Lisa and Ben _and_ find and stop the witches with just the two of you? Tell me that.”

He briefly considered calling Cas down to take them home and reconsidered before the thought was fully formed. Doing that wouldn’t be good for any of their relationships. Castiel probably wouldn’t even do it unless they gave him a good reason, not to mention they’d insisted they were still trying to wean themselves off of using his powers all of the time and it’d be hypocritical to use them. He sighed. “You’re determined.”

“We are.”

“Okay. I guess a couple of us need to go talk to her.” He pointed at Ben. “You stay here. We don’t want you walking in to a potentially unsafe environment and giving us two civilians to look out for there.”

Dean stood. “I’ll go. Jo’ll go with me. Like we’d planned.” 

Sam watched Ben a minute, then caught Jo’s eye. She gave him an imperceptible shake of her head. He returned his gaze to Dean. “About that…. We talk outside a minute?”

“Lead on.”

Dean followed him out to the Impala. “I don’t think you should go to Lisa’s house,” Sam said softly, “and it has nothing to do with anyone’s opinion of Lisa.” He leaned against the hood.

“Sam.”

“Hear me out. Lisa is definitely in the line of fire, which means if we take Ben back, he’d be either killed at the house when they grab her or taken with her and killed later. One of us needs to stay here and keep him from returning home to do _our_ job.” He held up a hand to keep Dean from talking. “I think he’d respond better to a man here, not two women. We also know if they realize Gwen is here she’ll be in that same danger as Lisa. Right now, I’d feel better if you’re with Ben and Gwen and Jo goes with me to talk to Lisa.”

“Why don’t you stay and Jo and I’ll go?”

“Honestly?” He glanced towards the closed motel room door. “Two reasons. I don’t know if I could be objective enough to protect Ben if they attacked us here. My instinct would be to save Gwen.”

“I doubt that,” Dean scoffed.

Sam shook his head. “No, it’s true. I couldn’t save Jess and if they try to take Gwen…. Dean, I love her. I won’t let anyone hurt her. Point is, she’d be my priority, not Ben. He needs someone here who’ll look out for him and Gwen just needs good back-up.”

For the span of nearly a minute, Dean looked shocked, his mouth opening and no sound emerging. Finally, understanding flickered in his eyes. “What’s the second?”

“You have to ask? You, Jo, and Lisa in a room together? That’s nowhere near a good idea, Dean. Jo and I will go. You won’t be there to distract Lisa and Jo won’t feel she has to protect you.”

It was with grudging acceptance that Dean let them head out. The house was easy to find. Ben’s directions were good and Sam parked across the street. He studied Jo a moment. She was staring at the house, a pensive frown tugging at her brow. “You ready?”

She ran her hands along her stomach, then reached for the door handle. “Let’s do this.”

Sam rang the bell twice. 

The door opened. Lisa’s lips parted as she looked at them, gaze traveling down Jo, pausing on her stomach, and then turning to Sam. Surprise, alarm, discomfort, dislike, and annoyance passed across her face in rapid succession. She licked her lips and cocked her head. “Sam Winchester.”

“Hello, Lisa.” He nodded in greeting and gestured to Jo. “This is Jo.”

“Also Winchester?”

Why would she ask that, he wondered, then dismissed it.

“Yes, it’s Jo Winchester,” Jo replied.

“Right. You’re on my doorstep…why?” She shook her head, suspicion settling in her eyes.

“We need to talk to you and it’s important.” Jo’s voice was cool and all business. “Could we come in for a minute?”

Lisa looked at the street, both up and down it. “Where’s Dean?”

“Not with us.” Though Jo smiled, she stepped sideways into Lisa’s line of sight. “It really is important that we talk.”

Sam set a brief, comforting hand against Jo’s back. She was tense, standing very straight. “It’ll be a few minutes. I promise.”

“You promise,” Lisa repeated, skepticism heavy in her voice. “Right. Okay, Sam. You and…”

“Jo,” he supplied.

“…Jo can come in. For a minute. I was about to go run errands.” Stepping back, she opened the door wider to let them inside the house. She closed the door behind them and led them to the kitchen, though she didn’t offer them anything to drink.

At first Sam thought the meeting was going well. Lisa appeared to listen carefully as they explained about Ben arriving and what they’d discovered. He thought she understood, but there was no alarm in her eyes or anything that indicated she knew she was in danger. She seemed completely unconcerned about anything they’d said or the fact that Ben had driven several states without a license to find them.

She leaned back against the kitchen counter. “So Dean _is_ here?”

“Uh…with Ben, yeah.”

She glanced at the front door. “Why didn’t _he_ bring Ben home? Why send you two?”

Jo cleared her throat. “Did you just not hear a word we said?”

“No, I heard you.”

“Well, obviously, you didn’t. He’s keeping Ben safe at the motel. As for the rest, I’ll recap for you.” Jo patted her stomach with her hands. Sam wondered if the baby was kicking or if it was to calm herself. He suspected the latter. “Your son saw a suspicious person who looks like you and isn’t and came to us --”

“To Dean. He went to Dean.”

She was focusing only on the part about Dean being in town. Sam blinked a few times. She should be focusing on the fact that she was honestly in danger. “To _us_. He came to us for help. We discovered --”

“Sam discovered actually. It was all Sam. He figured everything out.” Jo was doing her best to be professional, but Sam could see the narrowing of her eyes and the strain of keeping a polite expression setting in in how she stood and held herself.

“We discovered you’re in danger from a coven that wants to use you as a sacrifice to release their god into this world.”

“So you said,” Lisa replied as casually as if they were talking about the weather.

Sam took a step closer to Jo, touching a hand to her back once more. “Lisa, you’re a part of this. Your June second birthday is--”

Her expression shifted into one of annoyance. “This is ridiculous. I wasn’t born June second, Sam. I was born June twentieth. The twentieth. You’re wrong. Your facts are wrong. I’m not in this, so have Dean bring my son home.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lisa, but you were born on the second. I talked to your father. Your birth certificate was a fake. The original was altered.”

“How is that possible? I’ve used copies of that certificate. No one has said it was a fake.”

“It’s possible. Your father confirmed it.”

“You went to my parents with this nonsense.” Her lips tightened into a thin line. “Thanks, Sam.”

“I suppose we could just let the pagan god and witches have you. Would that be preferable?” Jo crossed her arms, her tone growing snippy. “They knew something was up back when you were stolen from the hospital as a baby and the people who saved you told them to change the date and time on your birth certificate to protect you. You _did_ know you were kidnapped, right?”

“It was a hospital mix-up. I was sent home with the wrong family.”

“Because hospitals have never been careful about those things,” Jo snapped, in a full sarcastic mode that Sam hadn’t heard from her in a very long time.

“It happens.” Lisa blinked and put her hands on her hips. She huffed a breath out. “What is your problem with me?”

“You really want to know, Lisa?” She tossed her hair back over her shoulders.

“Enlighten me, please, because this hostility you have for someone you don’t even know is rather stupid.”

Jo put her hands on her hips and Sam could see her gearing up for a fight in the way she pursed her lips and twitched one eyebrow. “Okay. I’ll tell you.” Her tone indicated she was aiming both barrels and was more than willing to pull the trigger.

Sam put a hand on her arm and she promptly shrugged it off. “Jo, don’t. Dean said --”

“No, Sam, if you and Dean want to let her get away with that shit, fine, but I’m not going to give her a free pass. I refuse.” She took a deliberate slow step right into Lisa’s personal space, getting right up into her face. “You manipulated Dean into staying with you and tried to turn him into a Stepford boyfriend that had no bearing on who he really is. Tucking his shirts in? Driving a truck? Taking up golf and holding neighborhood barbecues? Those are so not Dean Winchester.”

There was nothing wrong with any of those things, they just weren’t really Dean at all. He tucked his shirts in when they were conning someone and left them un-tucked otherwise, drove the Impala and nothing else unless he absolutely had to, barbecued when he could make it a friendly competition between him and Sam about who made the best hamburgers, pork chops, steaks, or whatnot, and he hadn’t even mentioned golf since leaving Lisa’s house.

“Look, I don’t know what Dean told you or what _Sam_ told you, but Dean tucked his shirts in willingly. He wanted to make a good impression on everyone and I encouraged that. He wanted to better himself. I encouraged him to come out with us to meet new people and the barbecues? He thought they were a great idea. He liked grilling and having our friends over. As for the truck, Dean drove it because it was too painful for him to drive that other car.”

“That other car,” Jo repeated.

“The black one,” she clarified slowly, like she thought Jo was a little brain damaged. “Does he still drive it?” 

“Does he still….” She cleared her throat, using Lisa’s tone right back at her. “You mean the _Impala_ , Lisa. It’s not ‘that other car’. It’s the _Impala_ ,” Jo put an extra emphasis on it, “and it means a lot to Dean. He rebuilt her from scratch, did you know that? After their dad died. He rebuilt her. He spent hours putting her back together.”

“And?”

The word seemed to throw Jo for a second. “What do you mean, _and_?” There was going to be no stopping Jo. Sam could see it in her eyes. She was ready for a knock-down, drag-out. “Do you really not know the _importance_ of her to him and to Sam both? Do you not know what she helped to do?” She turned her head, attention moving to Sam, bafflement in her eyes, before returning to Lisa.

Did Jo realize she’d begun referring to the Impala like Dean did as the conversation progressed? Using ‘she’ instead of ‘it’? 

They’d told Jo everything, as painful as it had been to go back through it all, but it was clear that Dean hadn’t really shared it with Lisa. She was as baffled by Jo’s emphasis as Jo was by Lisa’s flippant dismissal of the Impala. She didn’t know the Impala had played a part in Sam wresting control of Lucifer long enough to jump into the cage. Why hadn’t Dean told her? Had it been too fresh? Or had he not thought she’d understand?

Lisa raised her gaze towards the ceiling like she was bracing herself, then lowered it back to Jo. “Look, he came to me a wreck and he needed encouragement and support. I gave him that. I encouraged him to put it all behind him and start a new life with us. I gave him a chance to start over with a family, a chance to be a father. I helped him through the year where _Sam_ let him think he was dead. He was done with hunting until Sam came back. Maybe it was taking him awhile to adjust to retirement, but he was adjusting. He was healing.”

Sam frowned. Dean hadn’t healed. Why did she think that? When he’d gotten his soul back, Dean had been exactly the same as Sam remembered, with exactly the same issues, as though no time had gone by at all. Where was the healing Lisa claimed had happened? He opened his mouth to respond and couldn’t get a word in edgewise as both women hurried on.

“You totally don’t know anything about what happened to Sam during that year. Don’t pretend like you think you know.”

“I know enough. He came back and --”

“You told Dean he’d never be happy with his brother in his life.”

“He told you I said that?”

“He did and you hurt him so bad by saying that. I mean, from what I’ve heard, it’s never really been about Sam exactly, but about how you thought it was some kind of competition for Dean’s love. Him or you.” Jo gestured, using right hand for one word and the left for the other. She gestured again as she continued. “One or the other, can’t have both. You tried to make Dean choose between you.”

Lisa made a noise of protest. “Sam --”

“Who does that? What kind of person needs to make her boyfriend choose her over his own brother, the brother he practically raised? Maybe their relationship _is_ crazy, but who are you to judge? Did you go through everything they have through their entire lives? Do you have one little ounce of an idea what they’ve endured?” She shrugged. “Your loss, because Sam,” she gestured at him now, “is the kindest-hearted, gentlest, genuinely good man I know. He has never wished you ill. Even when he found out how you hurt Dean, he never wanted anything bad to happen to you.”

“Jo --” He tried to interrupt, but she forged on, voice growing louder.

“Dean is complete with him in his life. He can _only_ be complete with Sam and Sam with him. I find it sad that you couldn’t see it. Sister, you missed out on something wonderful. You could have been a part of this close, loving family, but your unwillingness to accept Sam lost you the best man you’ll ever have.”

Lisa stepped closer to Jo and seemed surprised when Jo didn’t back away. It looked to him like Jo even leaned towards her. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t wonder in the back of mind how things could have been different? I said things I didn’t mean, but so did Dean. He knows that. There are two sides here, Jo. You only know Dean’s.”

“I know enough.” She stepped back, sliding her gaze down Lisa and back up, lip curling a fraction. “You dissed Sam. I can’t forgive that.”

Sam cleared his throat and realized that if he was going to stop this verbal warfare, he needed to do it before either woman got a second wind. “Thanks for the defense, Jo, but can we all get back to the fact that a coven is watching Lisa and waiting to kill her so their god can materialize fully on this plane?”

Lisa moved back from Jo and around the counter. It was a defensive movement, putting a physical object between her and Jo. “Do you have any proof?”

Jo set her hands on the counter. “You mean aside from your own kid noticing? What kind of proof do you need?”

“Get out of my house. Get out and tell Ben to get his ass home. Or have Dean bring him home. One of the two.”

“Lisa --”

“No, Sam. You think I don’t see how trouble follows you? It followed you last time right into my happy home with Dean. We’d had a good year until you came along. You dragged him away and he wasn’t happy going. You had no concern for his happiness. He was fine here. We had a good life.” Her voice broke on the last word. “Leave now before trouble comes back around.”

Good year? Happy home? Dean’s happiness? Where had she gotten the idea that Dean had been happy? Dean had admitted several times that he hadn’t been happy; that he’d been existing, a functioning alcoholic who hadn’t been able to _begin_ to deal with the loss of Sam from his life. How was that good? How was that being happy? Not to mention, he’d hardly dragged Dean away.

Jo’s eyes went wide with disbelief and she looked at Sam. He had the feeling the same thoughts were running through her mind. She shook her head and returned her attention to Lisa. “Are you stupid by nature or is this a willful thing?” She said the next words slowly, like one did to a small child, a return to that tone both women had used minutes earlier. “Two experienced hunters tell you that your son’s suspicions are correct, you really are in danger, and you stick your head in the sand and ignore it?”

“Ben tells stories and he’s good at it. It’s a story, Jo. That’s all it is. He has a wild imagination and he’s conned all of you.”

She let out a noise of disbelief now and turned to Sam. “Well, that’s it. We tried. It was a good effort, Sam, but we can’t win every time, right?” Her smile was bright and artificially cheerful. “I say we let the coven and god have her dumb butt. What’s one more pagan god running around? We can always kill it later.”

“Jo, come on. Stop it. Just take a deep breath and calm down.”

“What?” She snorted. “She thinks it’s a story.” She gestured to the door. “We tried, we failed, and I’m outta here. I’ll be in the car.” At the door she paused long enough to shout back, “Not gonna come to your funeral when they kill you.”

Sam could almost hear the ‘you dumb bitch’, Jo inevitably muttered after she’d slammed the door. He guessed her opinion of Lisa hadn’t changed and he turned back to Lisa to try again. “Lisa, this is serious business. We wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t. We have solid evidence the coven is here in Battle Creek. At least let us watch the house. Target date appears to be July second. Send Ben to a friend’s house and we’ll keep a watch here, make sure you’re kept safe until July third. There’s four of us in town --”

“No.” She shook her head. “Do you know how long it took to get my life back together from the last brush with your kind of life? I can’t be a part of it. I told Dean that. Don’t drag me into this.”

“We’re not dragging. You’ve been targeted and it’s all because of your birth.” She was alternately claiming it was a story and trying to deny she could be a part of it, which indicated she did really believe them on some level, just not enough to accept help.

She turned away. “Will you just please leave? Send Ben home and leave.”

There was no changing her mind he saw. She refused to face the facts he and Jo had shared. “Okay, I’ll go. If you do need assistance,” he drew a card from his pocket and set it on the counter, “my number is on this card. If you see anything that spooks you, call. We’ll come. We’ll be here.” He slid the card across the counter. “I mean it, Lisa.”

“Go.”

He left, closing the door gently behind him, unlike the slam Jo had made.

“You feel better,” he asked, getting in the car.

Jo was contemplative, features set in a sad frown. He could see her hands shaking. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“About what,” he asked, starting the car. “It went about how I’d expected it to.”

“About my behavior in there. I thought I could be professional and all I could think about was what Dean said she’d said to him about you two. I saw red. Not how I’d imagined it going, believe me.”

“Actually, you weren’t quite as forceful as I’d thought you’d be.”

“Really?”

“I was fairly certain there’d be bloodshed. Or at least a couple punches thrown.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you, Jo. For what you said in there. You know…about me.”

“Nothing but the truth as I see it.”

There was silence for a few minutes.

“Ben’s going to be disappointed,” he told her, putting the car in drive.

With a groan, Jo leaned her head back. “I know. How do we break it to him that his mother is a moron? Seriously, what sane person who ever went through anything we deal with refuses a protection offer when hunters tell her she’s in danger? That’s like a special kind of stupid, Sam.”

“She doesn’t believe it. That’s what we tell him and then we put a double watch on him so he doesn’t run home to do our job.”

“We can’t let him go home. If they come after her tonight, they’ll either kill him in the house or take him and kill him later. We can’t let that happen.”

He heartily agreed and as they approached the motel, he wondered if they had a chance in hell of saving a woman who didn’t believe she needed saving.


	38. Chapter 38

Of all the things Lisa had been expecting to see, Sam Winchester showing up wasn’t one of them.

Sam Winchester, the man who’d always been there between her and Dean; the one first in Dean’s thoughts and always there. The man who’d taken Dean from her. There was never a moment when Dean hadn’t thought about Sam. That faraway gleam he’d get in his eyes had meant his thoughts had turned that way. A man was supposed to have his girlfriend in his thoughts constantly, not his own brother, but Dean had always thought about Sam. It wasn’t normal. 

A sliver of annoyance twined with jealousy pierced her deeply and lodged inside her as the memory of that welled up. To make matters worse, Dean hadn’t talked about Sam to her. She’d been willing to listen, to hold him and help soothe that ache, but he hadn’t said more than a few words about Sam, giving her the bare bones of information, like he hadn’t trusted her with anything more. 

Sam Winchester and a pretty blond woman, his…. What? What was this woman to him? She gave the woman a thorough once over, noting the pregnant belly and the wedding ring on the hand she rested on that stomach. She saw the way Sam touched her and how at ease they were, standing close together. Sam and his…what?…wife? This must be his wife. The ring, the belly, the gentle manner. This woman was his wife, right? She made a guess at the name, smug satisfaction in being right rising up. 

Why would Sam and his wife come see her? Why wouldn’t Dean himself? Did he think she wouldn’t want to see him? Of course she’d want to see him. Despite the way they’d ended, he’d remained one the best parts of her life. It would have been nice to see him again and thank him for bringing her son home. She could thank him well, since she was again single. 

Or was it Sam _again_ , refusing to let Dean be the one to talk to her, keeping Dean away from her? It was always Sam.

She didn’t really want to let them in, but knew they’d probably stand there until she did. She listened with half an ear to what they said, an outrageous story about witches and sacrifices and Ben….

Ben’s stories. He told some wild ones these days. Were they aware of that? Did they have any idea that her sweet boy had become a handful she didn’t even recognize some days, full of attitude and lies? Ben was trying to get attention and they were giving it to him by indulging his stories. She’d have to come up with some sort of punishment for ditching the camping trip. Lisa let loose an internal sigh. Punishments were getting harder to think of the older he got. Maybe she’d get his dad involved, since Bryan insisted he wanted to be in Ben’s life. Why he couldn’t have decided that years ago was beyond her.

But who was Jo to even think about tearing into her like she was obviously planning to do? What did she care? Why did Sam’s wife give one hoot? Or was she just as rabid and possessive about Dean as Sam was?

Her shoulders tightened with tension and Lisa had the strangest feeling she’d missed something crucial, yet couldn’t figure out what it could be. 

Jo didn’t know about her life with Dean. They’d been happy. They _had_.

She shifted uncomfortably and forced herself not to step away when Jo moved in close. Well…she’d been happy. Very much so. She’d had Dean, _the_ Dean, with her as hers, sharing her life and turning the best nights of her life into the best year. Her reformed bad boy, retired from that life he’d led. A responsible man who still made her heart go pitter-pat when she thought about him; who’d let her guide him in stepping fully into the normal life.

Maybe Dean had had a little bit of a drinking problem, but it had never interfered with their lives. It had never been a real _problem_. He’d been functioning. He’d held down a real job and never been a mean drunk. He’d kept it under control and he’d seemed happy. He’d gotten through the days. A few nightmares occasionally, but who didn’t have nightmares? And what was wrong with him trying to better himself anyway? If he wanted to tuck in his shirts and have the neighbors over, then why shouldn’t he? Not to mention he’d been in real pain over the car.

The Impala, as Jo reminded her. She knew perfectly well that he liked his car and that it meant a lot to him. It would have been hard not to see it. They’d put it in storage for that reason. Lisa had hoped that it being out of sight would help Dean, that putting all of it out of sight would make it go away for him. He’d just needed to remove himself from the past and Lisa had helped him with that. She’d done everything she could to help him retire completely and sever the ties to the life he’d left. It was what a good girlfriend did: help her man accomplish his goals, a thing Jo obviously didn’t understand. She didn’t get that Lisa had given Dean what he’d wanted from her. The apple pie life, he’d called it. Normality on a silver platter tied up with ribbons. She’d been his apple pie.

Only Sam had shown up, the worm in one of those apples. Supposedly dead Sam who’d let his brother believe he was dead for a year. Inconsiderate, selfish Sam, taking Dean away from the life he’d worked hard to get, ripping him away from Lisa and back into hunting. If Sam had stayed away, Dean would have healed eventually. He would have forgotten about that other life. He would have settled down into a normal life. With her.

But Sam had dragged him away from her and Jo was talking like Sam’s control over Dean was no big deal, like it was a good thing. Sam said jump and Dean did.

She had wondered though, what would have happened if she’d played her cards differently, if she’d maybe let Sam into the house and talked with him. What if she’d explained to him that he needed to let Dean have his own life? Or just how much Dean had meant to her and Ben? Would that have made a difference? Would he have cared that they’d needed Dean too? She suspected nothing would have been different and Sam still would have taken Dean away.

Jo stormed out and Sam remained, talking in a calm tone about things that shouldn’t be happening. Covens, witches, and sacrifices. He was acting like he cared about what happened to her and she knew he didn’t. If he’d cared about anyone but himself, he never would have taken Dean away to begin with.

Jealousy filtered through her veins, steadily moving through her.

Why should she believe a word he said? 

Covens, witches, and…. 

She couldn’t handle it. This wasn’t happening. No. There wasn’t anything out there watching her. It was a story. It had to be. She had a normal life, with an emphasis on the word. She didn’t have that…that _freak_ life of all the weird creatures of the world. She had normal and that was that. There was nothing out there.

Lisa sent him away. She expected him to storm out like his wife had done, but he didn’t, saying a final few words in that gentle voice with the false expression of caring, and closing the door so softly she had to follow him and make sure he’d actually left the house. He had. She watched him get into a car and sit for a minute, talking to Jo before driving away. Lisa remained at the window, making sure they were gone. When the car had disappeared around the corner, she stood still in the window, staring at the street. The trees in neighbors yards looked suddenly sinister. The houses that were closed up tight to keep the air conditioning inside looked empty, making her feel like she was the only human being on the block. The friendly block was no longer friendly. 

Damn Sam Winchester. Now she’d be seeing goblins in the shadows.

Still…it was prudent to make sure the locks were all on. It was good common sense. Not that she believed them. She didn’t, but checking the locks was something she should do anyway. Lisa made her way around the house, checking the locks on the doors and windows. Only when she was sure they were locked and no one -- or thing, she admitted silently to herself -- could get in did she pick up the card Sam had left and take it to the couch, sitting on one cushion and staring at it.

It was like the ones Dean had had that never showed their real names. This one read ‘Sam Wesson, FBI’ with a number below it. It looked every bit as real as real business cards. She wondered if Dean had cards to match that read ‘Dean Smith’ -- Smith and Wesson.

She touched the print, her glance turning briefly to the cell phone and cordless on the table. 

Remorse flickered inside her. She shouldn’t have argued with Jo. It was easy to become emotional while pregnant and she shouldn’t have deliberately goaded her like that. It wasn’t good for the woman or the baby and had been a childish thing to do. For all she knew, she’d just complicated Jo’s pregnancy and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, no matter how much she might dislike the woman on sight. Some women were delicate that way while pregnant. Was Jo? As upset as she’d gotten, perhaps she was one of those overly emotional women.

I should have known better, she thought. 

The woman just got on her nerves though, with her insinuation that Lisa hadn’t known Dean.

Of course she’d known Dean. He was a good man. Whatever else there was, it was fundamental to him. He was good. What more had she needed?

Perhaps she should call and apologize to Jo. Or maybe…. She’d call Dean about Ben and tell him she was sorry if she’d upset Jo; that the moment had been emotional, and ask him to relay the apology to Jo. Yes. She’d do that. Then she wouldn’t have to talk to Jo herself.

Lisa picked up her cell, found the number she’d never deleted and dialed. She sat up very tall on the couch cushion, teeth grazing her lower lip. Her heart quickened with the anticipation of hearing Dean’s voice. He’d always had such a sexy voice. Disappointment quickly prickled at her however. She slumped a little. It was out of service. It shouldn’t surprise her. She knew Dean had changed cell phones often in his line of work out of necessity, but it did surprise her. Shouldn’t, yet still managed to. She couldn’t call him and tell him she hadn’t meant to upset Jo. She couldn’t call and talk to him about Ben. The only link she had to him was Sam.

Damn.

Sam. There wasn’t a way to get around him, was there?

She tossed the phone back on the table with a grimace and mulled over what they’d said, going over the details. In the back of her mind was the slightest idea that Sam and Jo come out of a genuine desire to help her, but then…when had Sam ever helped her? He’d pulled Dean away from her. 

She set the card on the coffee table beside the phone. The number on it seemed to sear into her mind. 

What if what they’d told her was true? What if Ben really had seen someone who looked just like her? What if he’d seen something that terrified him to the point he’d drive hours to…where?…South Dakota?…on the off-chance he’d find Dean? That was taking a big chance, with a lot of factors involved. What if her son, as much of a surly stranger he’d become these days, was really trying to save her life? What if Sam really had uncovered something even greater than what Ben had seen and had come to protect her? What if there were events out of her control happening right now and she was going to find herself in the middle of yet another supernatural _thing_?

Her blood seemed to turn into icy sludge inside her and she shook her head over and over.

No. It couldn’t happen. When Dean had left her for Sam all of those things had gone with them. She had a normal life, with normal things, not…that life. Nothing strange had happened since Dean had said that last goodbye in this very house. They were imagining it, or listening to Ben’s stories.

Dean was keeping Ben safe. That was what Sam and Jo had told her. It wasn’t doing any harm for Ben to spend time with Dean, was it? It never had before. It was good for him to be around a man like Dean, a caring man who knew right from wrong, who knew what it had been like to be a teenage boy with an attitude. Ben could spend time with Dean, the next few hours, maybe the next couple days. Maybe Dean could straighten him out a little, since she couldn’t seem to anymore and Bryan was coming in too late to really bond with Ben like he should have. Like Dean had been able to. Then, she’d text or call Ben and tell him to come home. She’d tell him he was busted and that he was grounded or something. Dean would make sure Ben was okay. He always had….

Except for once. That had been a fluke though. In the time she’d known him, it had only happened once and Ben had forgiven Dean for shoving him. Dean was a protector. He’d keep Ben out of harm’s way -- if there really was any harm out there and not a simple story, which it likely was.

As for herself….

After much thought, she decided not to run errands after all. It wasn’t because she believed what they’d said. No. She simply…didn’t feel like going anywhere anymore. And maybe she wouldn’t feel like going anywhere tomorrow either…all the way into July third. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean wasn’t just watching Ben. Gwen knew that. She wasn’t stupid. Dean was there to protect her as well and she just let the issue go. Sam and Dean were going to do it whether she liked it or not, so she’d suck it up and accept staying in the motel room with Dean’s protection. For now, anyway.

By tacit agreement, Gwen kept Ben busy while Sam and Jo went to talk to his mother and Dean did the ‘great protector’ thing. She got Ben involved in a complicated, convoluted card game that she, Mark, and Christian had played when she’d been Ben’s age -- a game with shifting rules that required a fair amount of concentration. All the while they played, she chatted him up, asking basic questions about the town, the house, his friends, and other things. She tried to be subtle, getting a picture for what was around and the sort of response they could expect from neighbors and so on. Anything that might be useful.

“So this friend. Tommy? Where does he live? Close to you?”

“She lives a couple blocks over.”

“She?” Brows raising, Gwen looked over at him. “Your best friend is a girl?” Interesting. “Is Tommy short for something?”

“Tomeika. But it’s not like she’s a girl, you know? She hates all of the silly things her mom’s always trying to get her to do.”

A crooked grin tugged at her lips. Sounded slightly familiar. “I see. You texted her since we hit town?”

He froze in the act of setting cards down. “Texted?”

Gwen snatched up the cards he was laying down and placed a couple of her own on the table. “Come on, Ben,” she said, sitting back. “I’m not dumb. A guy your age doesn’t go anywhere without his phone. I assumed you’d kept it powered down most of the time so far to save battery, but no way you don’t have one on you.”

Ben glanced at the other room. Dean was pacing in there for the moment. He searched his jeans pocket and set the phone on the table. It was a fairly new model, one Gwen herself had been looking at. “I texted her in the bathroom a little bit ago.”

“Anything about what’s going on?”

“Yeah.”

“Were you planning on telling us?”

There was a guilty shifting in his eyes that Gwen read fairly easily. He’d planned to give them the slip and go off with Tommy to try to save the day. Typical teenage boy with a yearning for adventure. “Of course.”

“Uh-huh. What’d Tommy have to say?”

“She’s been watching the house, following mom, that sort of thing.”

“Wouldn’t your mom be suspicious about her doing that?”

“Nope. Tommy’s like all over town anyway. She wouldn’t think anything of it. Anyway, Tommy said she took some pictures of the pod mom. Do you want to see them? I could have her come here?”

“Let’s talk to Dean, Sam, and Jo about it, but probably it’d be a good idea. We might see something on the pictures you two wouldn’t notice.”

“Like what?” He leaned forward, very interested in her answer.

Gwen shook her head. “No way am I telling you squat. Dean would kill me.”

“You’re not afraid of Dean.”

She laughed. He was still hoping to get details. “Not really, no. Don’t tell him that. I don’t want to tick him off too badly any more often than I have to. Besides, you try working with someone you’ve pissed off. Not pleasant.”

He picked up a whole row of cards and began laying down pairs. “Do you like being a hunter?”

“Very much, but this life isn’t for everyone. Ben, I grew up in it. My family trained me from the time I was little to do every aspect of this job. It’s a hard life that can quickly take it’s toll. A lot of hunters are solitary, rarely taking partners, living on the road, drifters more than anything without the comfort a steady income can bring in. We live with little, make do more often than not, sometimes go to bed hungry, and always sleep with one eye open. It’s physically exhausting and extremely dangerous. Any one of the things we hunt could kill us. Even ghosts can do major damage.”

“But you live with Dean, Jo, and Sam. You’re not on the road.”

“Didn’t always live there. I was on my own for awhile. I worked with Jo’s mother and later met Jo. The three of us were a team, pooling resources and money. We’d meet up with Sam and Dean and it took time, but we all became more to each other. We became a real team.”

“Dean married Jo.”

“He did.”

He studied his cards a moment. “Are you marrying Sam then?”

“If he asked me, I might.”

“You could ask him. Girls can do that.” He looked around the room. “I mean, if you can do this job, you can ask him to marry you.”

She took the cards he hadn’t and set down pairs from her own hand. “I suppose I could. Don’t know yet if I want to get married. Maybe some day.”

He leaned back in his chair to see into the other room. “Are Dean and Jo going to raise their baby as a hunter?”

“That’s a very good question and one I don’t have the answer to. I don’t think they even know.”

“Can they be hunters and not raise a hunter?”

These were actually decent questions and she set her cards down and folded her arms on the table edge. “Why are you so interested?”

He shrugged.

Gwen thought a moment and decided to lay it on him. Hard. Dean wanted Ben to lose interest in hunting, she’d do her best to discourage him. “Okay. Here’s a general answer from what I’ve observed over my lifetime. It’s possible to be a hunter and raise your kids not to be. I’ve seen it. I know a woman whose dad was a hunter, but she’s not. She went to college and the last I heard, has a husband and family somewhere in California. However, kids that see it and grow up in it do tend to gravitate towards it in some capacity. While it is possible to raise kids out of it while being in it, it’s just not probable or doable for most couples.” She licked her lips and leaned forward slightly. “Ben, this isn’t a kind life. It’s hard, very exacting, and even cruel. We have no life insurance plan, no medical or dental, and we probably won’t live to retire. It’s thankless most of the time.”

He studied her closely. “Then why do you do it?”

“Someone has to. Someone has to beat back the bad things and make the world safe for everyone else. Yes, it does have the hero factor going for it. There’s nothing like going in and saving a life or several lives. The problem though with stepping into it for the hero factor is that we don’t get media recognition for what we do. I don’t know that I’d want to do it if we did. We don’t get the hero’s day where everyone applauds us. We do the job, get the hell out of Dodge as fast as possible once it’s done, and move on to the next town. We leave messes behind, Ben. Orphaned children, broken families…demolished buildings.” She and Ellen had been involved in one of those. The explosion had likely been seen for miles. “Anything you can think of as a consequence, we leave it behind at one time or another. We’re the underbelly of heroes, way down in the sub-sewer. You want to do this job? I know you’re interested in it. It’s obvious. Just don’t expect to be accepted as a hero, not even by your own family.”

“Are you by yours?”

“My whole family did this job. I’ve done good deeds, but I don’t think of myself as a hero. Dean and Sam don’t think of themselves as heroes. They’re hunters, men doing a job that no one in their right mind really wants to do. Sure, they saved the world…but no one is ever going to know about it. History books won’t record that Sam and Dean Winchester saved earth and every life on it. They have the background, I have it, Jo has it, and truthfully, the ones that come into it from a normal life come because of personal tragedy and no longer have a family. Keeping that in mind, let’s look at this from what I’ve learned in my life. Say you graduate high school and decide to be a hunter. You set out on that path, do some jobs, earn some respect from other hunters, learn the ropes. Now think about how your mother reacted to what you tried to tell her here.”

His gaze fell to the table, sad and hurt.

“Disbelief, you said. She didn’t want to see it or hear it. Now imagine that every time you tried to spend a weekend or holiday with her when you’re grown. She’s like this now, think about how worse it’d be if you were a full hunter. You couldn’t talk to her, it’d become a wedge between you, and you’d end up staying away more often than being near her no matter how much you love her because of that. On the flip side, you might leave altogether, sending a Christmas card once a year because the things you hunt are too dangerous and they might just kill her to hurt you. You’d leave and you’d be doing it out of love, and she might not understand it.”

He flinched.

“Ben, there’s a good chance you’d lose your family -- mother, grandparents, aunt, cousins, all of them. You’d do it because you love them too much to see them hurt because of you.”

“There’s still that danger with those raised in it.”

“It’s less because we understand the risks. We grasp all of them and accept it. It’s our life. It’s how it has to be.” Gwen thought she could actually see the breaking of that dream of his right before her eyes. “Look, I know it sounds exciting. Believe me, I wasn’t immune to that call myself and I know Jo wasn’t either. You think long and hard about the consequences of choosing this path before you ever step foot on it because once you start, the danger begins and it’s always there in some form or another. You will lose your family, Ben. One way or another, you’ll lose them all. It’s just a matter of when and how. Does doing this job outweigh everything else for you? Could you say goodbye to your normal family, all of them, and let them go?”

He swallowed hard.

“We make personal sacrifices all the time. Our happiness, our health, our safety. Can you give up everything for a world that won’t know about you and won’t ever thank you?”

She heard the door to the other room close and Sam came through the doorway. He came to her and bent, kissing her quickly in greeting. Gwen could see on his face that whatever had happened hadn’t been good. His expression was grim.

“What happened,” Ben asked. “Is she with you? Did she believe you?”

“We’ll convene the war council in a few minutes,” he replied and reached past Gwen for his laptop bag.

Ben slid his cards across the table. “I don’t want to play anymore.” There was a solemn gleam in his eyes that mixed with the sadness already there and Gwen caught the secondary meaning of the words. She’d burst his bubble. He was reconsidering his idea of hunting.

“I know,” she replied gently.

He was going to think about what she’d said and chances were, he’d let the dream fade. It was best if he did. While she thought he had what it took to survive as a hunter, he’d end up losing the mother he was trying desperately to save at present. He’d save her now only to lose her then. In a few months, he’d look hard at something else and wouldn’t look back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was in love with Gwen. It wasn’t the news itself that shocked Dean, but that Sam had admitted it out loud. He’d admitted it and the fact that he’d do anything to protect her, even endanger a civilian teenager. Dean had known Gwen was good for Sam and him for her, but he hadn’t noticed just how deeply Sam had become attached to her. It was a good thing and at the same time, if Sam didn’t learn how to reign that in, it was going to be a very bad thing that could cause plenty of trouble in the future.

He had no advice for Sam on balancing that either, because he was still trying to balance it himself in regards to Jo.

Like now.

Dean was anxious the entire time they were gone. In every scenario he’d come up with, it had involved him there with Lisa and Jo, not here in the motel rooms with Ben and Gwen. He paced between the two rooms they’d gotten, moving back and forth, waiting for Sam and Jo to return. They should be okay. Whoever was watching Lisa couldn’t know who either of them were. Could they? If they knew who Gwen was, it was possible they might know who Sam was, but not Jo. She should be safe and Sam would do his best to keep her safe. It was Lisa who was being watched.

He went to the window and flipped the curtain back. Nothing. Dean let it drop back in place and returned to pacing, resisting the urge to call both of them.

It had been an hour. Where were they?

The outer door opened. He whirled. 

A part of him expected them to walk in with Lisa between them, while the rest of him knew she wouldn’t come with them. He’d known she wouldn’t. She’d never seemed to ever really grasp the potential danger to herself, making him feel like he was overreacting and being unreasonable while claiming she knew he was the expert on those matters. He remembered one moment where he’d felt very inadequate and silly….

Sam and Jo came in, Sam moving past him and into the second room. Dean heard Ben ask what had happened and Sam tell him they’d all talk about it in a few minutes.

Jo though…. She moved to the table, averting her face from him, but in the seconds he’d seen her eyes he’d noticed that she was upset. It was there, clear to him. Jo was upset and trying to mask it. “Jo?” Going to her, he grasped her arms and bent a little to see her face when she looked down. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Her voice had that flat inflection she used when she was trying to pretend whatever it was didn’t matter, but he could hear the difference. He heard the pain that was there. “It’s not important.”

“Bull. It upsets you, it’s important. What happened?” She continued to deny it wasn’t important and out of frustration, he called out, “Sam?”

He appeared in the doorway between the two rooms. “Yeah?”

“What happened to upset my wife, and if you say ‘nothing’ I’m going to start swinging.”

“Dean….” Reluctance slid across his face.

He was getting bad vibes about it now. “Spill.”

With a glance behind him, Sam closed the connecting door, shutting Ben and Gwen from the conversation. Not that they were paying attention. They’d been playing some complicated card game that had no set of rules that Dean had ever heard before. It was a game she claimed Neal and Patricia Campbell had made up. “Lisa said some things while we were talking.”

Tension curled in his lower back. “What things?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jo insisted. “I said things right back at her. I wasn’t at my conversational best. I was a little bit of a bitch.”

“Tell me what she said.” He glanced back and forth between them. “One of the two of you loosen your lips. Now. Sam? What did she say to upset Jo?”

Sam put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the wall beside the door. “She…told us you had a happy home with her, a good year, and you weren’t happy to leave to hunt with me. She was,” he sighed, “adamant.”

“She said that? It was happy? That I was happy?”

“She did.” Sam met his gaze squarely.

He let loose with a mental round of cursing that would have turned the air blue had he verbalized any of it. What on earth had gone on there? Why had Lisa felt it necessary to say that to his wife? His _pregnant_ wife at that? What was wrong with her? He was of half a mind to go there and discuss the inappropriateness of that with her. If she wanted to remember their time together as only happy, that was her prerogative, but to say it to Jo? Not appropriate at all. Maybe he should have overruled them and gone anyway. 

Putting his arms around Jo, he hugged her tightly to him before leaning back a fraction and tipping her chin up with one hand. “You know all about that year. I told you everything, from the point the cage snapped shut on Sam to the moment I said goodbye to Lisa. I was a broken wreck the entire year, Jo. She knew that. She saw it every day. She knew I was in pain, that I wasn’t dealing with anything, and she knew things weren’t the best between us and hadn’t been, no matter what she might say now. Yeah, there were good days, but there were a lot more bad ones.” 

Jo grasped his t-shirt.

“My happy home is with my brother, my wife, and our family, which includes Gwen, Bobby, Ellen, and definitely this baby.” He lowered his hand to touch her belly. “I’ve never been more content than I am now and the day you became a permanent part of my life I saw a whole new world open up in front of me. You know this.”

“I know.” She nodded, relief in her eyes. “I do. It’s just…these damn hormones.” She pressed closer. “They make me weepy and sometimes I think my common sense has disappeared altogether.” Jo licked her lips. “Dean, she sounded so certain.”

Well, it had been a good year for Lisa. She’d said that once. The best year of her life -- wrapped in the worst of his, an agonizing year with a huge essential piece of him missing: Sam. “Lisa….” Dean sighed. How did he put this? “She has her own way of processing things.” He looked at Sam. “You know I’m happy now, right? I’m happy hunting with you. I want to do this.”

Sam had no doubt in his eyes. “I know. We had that talk months ago. We’re square, Dean. Have been for a long time now.”

It had been part of their reconnecting plan way back when. They’d had that Oprah-Dr. Phil-chick flick talk and cleared the air. A fresh beginning, getting to know each other again and then…Cas had found Jo and the rest was good history. “Whatever I had with her doesn’t mean a thing now, Jo.” He kissed her and didn’t release her fully when he pulled back. “I’m going to guess that she didn’t believe you.”

Sam pushed off from the wall and reached for the door. “We should do this with all of us in the room.”

He walked with Jo into the other room, keeping an arm around her. What they reported was no surprise to him or Ben and soon they were deep into planning how to save Lisa’s life.

~~~~~~~~~

She’d messed up. Maybe if Jo hadn’t let her personal dislike of Lisa get in the way, they could have convinced her to be cautious.

Sam tried to make her feel better, but it didn’t work completely. She kept going over and over the conversation with Lisa, picking out where she should have backed down and where she should have just shut her damn mouth. As much as she’d matured over the years, she still had trouble occasionally with her temper and mouth getting in the way.

It was just that she continued even now to get a rush of anger when she thought about the woman. What she’d told Sam was true. She hadn’t been able to get the words out of her mind and had only seen red. There was no way Jo would ever like Lisa Braeden and in no world would they ever have been friends.

But she’d save her life if she could.

“How did it go,” Gwen asked, gathering up the cards into a pile.

Sam crossed his arms. “She didn’t believe us, or at least that’s what she said. I think it’s more that she’s afraid to believe us.”

Ben slid a few cards Gwen had missed across the table. “See. Dean should have been the one to go. I knew it. She would have believed him.” 

Jo faced him. “She didn’t believe you and you’re her own son. She didn’t believe me and Sam and we both tried to tell her. Why do you think she’d believe Dean?”

“He lived with us.”

“You live there.”

“He’s a hunter.”

“Sam and I are hunters.”

“He’s an adult.”

“That doesn’t wash either. Sam and I are adults.”

“He was her boyfriend.”

“He’s not anymore.”

“He knows this stuff.”

She shrugged. “So do Sam and I.”

Ben looked down at his hands and when he spoke, his voice was low. “She’ll believe him…because I have to think she’ll believe one of us. I have to believe we can save her.”

“Ben….” A range of emotions passed through Dean’s eyes. Regret, indecision, sadness. Slowly, he knelt in front of Ben. “You said it was like she didn’t remember. Well, I’m sure she does remember, she just doesn’t want to acknowledge the things are out there and she might have one more brush with them.”

Jo knelt as well and stretched out a tentative hand to touch Ben’s “Her reaction is a common civilian reaction.” To a first-time brush maybe. She didn’t mention that, however. “I’ve seen it before. We all have.” She saw Ben’s gaze raise to Sam and then Gwen and didn’t turn her head to see if they nodded. “She doesn’t have to believe us for us to save her life.” It’d help if she did, of course, though it wasn’t necessary. Her phone rang and she squeezed Ben’s hand. “Excuse me, okay?” She went to the far side of the room and answered, turning her back to the room. “Mom? Hi. Are you back already? Thought you were going to be gone longer.”

“We’re back. Was an easy pick-up all things considered.”

“All things considered?”

“A live showing of grumpy old men all the way there, during, and back. Bobby I can deal with. Rufus I can deal with. Together?” She snorted. “Would it be wrong to shoot them both?” Ellen cleared her throat. “Where are you? We stopped by the house and it was all locked up. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment this week?”

“Long story and we’ll be back before it.”

Sam approached her. “Let me talk to her a minute.”

“Mom, Sam wants to talk to you. Hold on.” She handed him the phone.

“Ellen, hey…. Sort of…. Can you check something for me ASAP?…. Bobby has a few books on demon names. Would you look up Molek for me, see what you can find? I tried online and didn’t come up with much. Think I need a…. Right. You got it. I think he’s the one the witches are trying to free from hell.” He continued, mentioning the Hotchkiss mansion.

When Jo had concluded her own chat with her mother, she looked at Sam, raising a brow. “Molek is a demon? I thought it was a god we’re trying to stop them from raising.”

“He’s either one or the other. Might as well be prepared.”

“Maybe that should be our group motto,” she suggested. “Always be prepared.”

He laughed. “It’s good common sense anyway.”

They agreed to meet Ben’s friend and all but Gwen were surprised to find that Tommy was a girl. A very busty girl with curly dyed red hair, an all black ensemble (a worn Lara Croft Tomb Raider t-shirt and jeans), and a ton of attitude. Jo smothered a smile when three pairs of male eyes fell to Tommy’s bust line. A faint grin played at the corners of Ben’s mouth. Dean and Sam exchanged a long amused glance, then looked down at Ben. Jo decided it was obvious why Tommy was Ben’s best friend. She thought that sometimes, it all really did go back to breasts. 

“I can’t stay,” Tommy said, tossing a set of keys on the table. “Here’s the keys to my mom’s other car. It’s newer, so it’ll run better. Takes premium though. I gotta get back. The parental unit is making me go to my dad’s. She called from port, thinks I’m gonna throw a party or something.”

Or maybe give people she’d never met free access to her mother’s cars?

“Like I’d associated with the unwashed masses in this podunk town.” Tommy rolled her eyes. “Please. So….” She flicked a finger at the key ring. “The extra house key is on that ring. Help yourselves to the food. Don’t worry about leaving a mess. I never do. Just if you stay, vacate within a week and don’t use her perfume. She gets pissy for some reason when you use it to wash the neighbor’s Chihuahua.” She pronounced it ‘cha-wee-wee.’

“I don’t think we’ll be staying at your house, but that’s a nice offer,” Dean told her.

“You can stay there, you know. Not like either of us is using it at present.” She socked Ben in the arm, which began a long ritual of punches and hand movements and ended with them staring at each other with bright red faces and goofy grins.

Oh my God, Jo thought. Tommy’s not just his best friend. She was his _girlfriend_. The idea that Lisa likely had no idea made her grin. It was an evil little grin and she knew it, not bothering to tone it down any.

It also amused Jo a little at how free Tommy was with her mother’s possessions. Need another car? I brought the keys. Want some food? Here’s the house key, rifle through the fridge. Teenage disdain and rebellion out full force. She left a flash drive with pictures that Jo snatched up and immediately got busy on while Gwen and Sam started going round and round on Gwen participating in the stakeout. Dean’s conversation with Ben was peppered in between the disagreement.

Jo wasn’t going on the stakeout due to the fact that the baby kept her taking a bathroom break about every hour on the hour. Taking part in a stakeout wasn’t on her list of available activities at present.

“Sam and I’ll take first watch.” Gwen got up from her chair.

Sam shook his head. “No, I’ll take first watch alone.”

“Best friend, huh?” Dean crossed his arms.

“No, I’m going with you,” Gwen told Sam.

Ben grinned. “I hit the jackpot with her. She likes all the stuff I do and she’s not all girly.”

Sam took a step towards Gwen. “You’re staying here.”

“It’s a stakeout. It’s not like we’re charging into --”

“It’s too dangerous for you,” Sam insisted.

“Jackpot, Ben,” Dean asked.

“What? Didn’t you see her? She’s hot and awesome! Can’t I like a girl who likes what I do?”

“Dangerous!” Gwen put her hands on her hips. “You’re being a caveman.”

The word made Sam flinch, blink, then nod slowly. “I am, aren’t I?”

“You sure are.” Gwen moved closer. They were pressed together now, Gwen’s head tipping back to look up at him. “I’m going, I’m working a shift, and you need to deal with it. It’s my job, too, Sam.”

He was hating to do it, the conflict on his face. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t like it.”

Dean pulled out the chair beside Jo and sat, legs stretching out. “Your mom know Tommy’s more than a friend?”

“God, no! She’d freak! Don’t _tell_ her.”

Jo let her grin return and looked at them. Dean quirked a brow at her, a gesture that indicated he fully understood her smirking satisfaction, and in a wry voice said, “Oh, I don’t think anyone here is going to tell her.”

“I’m not asking you to like it, Sam, just to get out of my way and let me do my job.”

Sam and Gwen left together within five minutes and Jo continued to work on the pictures. She hoped there was something there to help them, but didn’t have high hopes.


	39. Chapter 39

Lisa picked up the phone and stared down at the card again.

Silly. She was being silly.

She set the phone back down and sighed, checking the locks on the windows again. She tried to remember everything Dean had ever said about demons and witches. What was it she needed for demons? Salt, right? Did it matter what kind or would just any old salt do? And how much did she put down? It was going to be a mess later, but…. Lisa used up her open salt canister and the new one on the lower windows and doors and wondered then if she needed to do the upper ones, too. She bit her lip. Maybe not? Maybe it was the lower points of entry that mattered? She tried to think about it with some logic.

Task completed, she put the canisters in the trash, wishing she’d paid more attention to those details on the few occasions Dean had spoken of them.

Nothing she tried to do kept her interest. She watched tv, worked out, cooked herself dinner, read a library book, and cleaned the house. She found herself drifting from one task to the next before any of them were completed, pausing by the table with the card and phone.

Over and over, Lisa checked the locks and contemplated calling the number Sam had left. Several times she stopped herself in the middle of actually dialing and all day, she considered the things Ben had said and what Sam and Jo had told her. She didn’t want to consider it as truth. For it to be truth would mean she couldn’t get away from the life Dean had tried to leave behind any more than he could and she’d never been immersed like he had. To accept this meant she’d forever be looking over her shoulder, afraid there was something there. It meant she’d need to have a hunter on speed dial just in case.

The hours passed and when she thought she saw a strange car slowing in front of her house, she reached for the card and phone.

Stop it, she told herself.

Sam and someone else she couldn’t see were watching the house. She could see the car and him parked just down the street. The shadows and reflection on the windshield kept her from a clear view. Maybe it was Dean or Jo or the other hunter they’d mentioned. Was the other hunter someone she’d met? The man whose house Dean had once taken her and Ben to? Or was it someone she hadn’t met?

When she looked out another time, the Impala had replaced the previous car and it was Dean sitting there.

A part of her felt a bit safer knowing they’d not taken her refusal to heart. They’d be there if something did happen. They were there, protecting her as they’d promised they would if she said yes. Apparently they’d do it despite her refusal. They were on top of things.

__

Dean was on top of things.

Once, she almost made a pot of coffee and took it to them, but had stopped before pouring the water into the machine. They probably came prepared. Besides, she was leery of stepping outside.

It looked like rain.

According to the weather channel, a doozy of a storm was heading their way. Outside, the treetops were already swaying, though it wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow sometime. The system was large and slow-moving, having formed suddenly in the past few hours, and was coming straight for them -- almost like it was being drawn here. That thought flitted through her mind and she considered it for only seconds, remembering Dean once saying something about some weather systems connecting to demonic activity.

Her gut clenched.

Demons, witches, sacrifices.

Lisa swallowed hard and turned the volume up a little. No, no, no. It’s only a storm system, nothing more, she told herself. It doesn’t _mean_ anything.

The storm was predicted to cause tornadoes and plenty of damage as it made it’s way across the U.S. 

She stayed up late, watching the news, trying to pretend an interest in the fighting overseas and the current president’s latest policy proposal on energy and finally went to bed late. She was jumpy at every slightly strange sound and didn’t sleep well, waking on July 1 with a trembling, anticipatory sensation in her stomach. The air felt charged with electricity and she thought she could actually feel the storm coming towards them.

All day long, she waited for something to happen, unable to sit down, constantly pacing inside the house.

When night fell without incident, she released a shaking breath with a little laugh. Everything was going to be okay. They’d been wrong.

Lisa got ready for bed and by ten-thirty, she turned the lights out.

~~~~~~~~~~

July 1 dawned rainy, nasty, and oppressively hot, remaining that way the entire day and into the evening. They’d all been keeping an eye on the storm system and agreed it wasn’t a good thing, likely connected to whatever was going to happen in the next day. 

They took roughly six hour shifts watching the Braeden house. It was boring work. Lisa didn’t leave, staying inside the entire day, which was good in Dean’s opinion. It meant that she was taking the situation somewhat seriously.

At present, Gwen was back in the room with Jo and Ben, getting a little shut-eye. She’d be coming to relieve him soon, then when six hours had passed, he’d head back to relieve Sam. Jo had reported that Ben appeared to have lost interest in hunting and was behaving himself, watching tv and not asking constantly how he could help. Dean wondered on that change of heart and thought it could have something to do with Gwen. She and Ben had been having some intense conversations.

“You didn’t tell Lisa about what happened in the cemetery, did you?” Sam took the lid off his coffee and blew across it in a nonchalant manner. It smelled like he’d gotten a girly coffee this time, something with cinnamon.

Dean leaned his head back. “No. I gave her the bare bones of things.”

“Why not? I mean, why not share it all with her?”

“She wouldn’t have understood if I had.” Instinctually, he’d known that. Even as broken as he’d been, Lisa wouldn’t have fully grasped the life he’d led up to coming to her. She’d understood some, but not the entire sort of life he led. His world was so different from the one she’d been raised in right from the get-go, that he’d kept most of it folded to his chest. It had been far less painful to do that, a protective move, a shielding of himself from feeling that pain.

Therein had lain one of the problems however. He’d never given her enough information to gain much understanding at all. If he’d opened up to her the way he had with Jo, perhaps things would have been different.

But she wasn’t Jo and he couldn’t have opened up to her because she wouldn’t have understood like Jo did. Jo had the benefit of growing up in the life. A different side of it than he’d had, but a side of it nonetheless. Not to mention that she’d experienced the other side as she’d gotten older, becoming well-rounded in it. It was more natural to tell her those things than it had ever been to tell Lisa.

The benefit of growing up in the life. Funny how he’d never considered it a benefit before. Dean almost laughed to himself at that. It _was_ a benefit, however, enabling him to have a close relationship with his wife and to even have a wife at all. In fact, right now, it was a big plus. Strange to see it that way.

As his own coffee cooled, he thought about what might have happened if he’d told Lisa everything, ultimately deciding that things wouldn’t have been different. Knowing all the details about his past and understanding certain matters in his life wouldn’t have changed the fact that Lisa hadn’t wanted an active hunter. She hadn’t wanted the sort of life he had with Jo. She’d wanted a man he didn’t think he’d ever truly be. He’d tried, but it wasn’t him. He wasn’t her retired white knight.

He was a hunter. That was who he was, what he was, and he’d be one until the day he died, however long or short a time until that day.

“You didn’t tell me you hadn’t told her.”

“Telling her wouldn’t have changed anything, Sammy. We’d still be at this point. She didn’t like the waiting and wondering; couldn’t get past the worry and other things. It wasn’t real enough to her even when it should have been.”

“Unlike Jo.”

“Unlike,” he agreed, conjuring a mental image of his wife’s beautiful face. He still dreamed about Jo at night. Sometimes those dreams were naughty and sometimes they were sweet, but they were always pleasant dreams. That was a good sign, right? “I knew Jo would understand. She just….” Dean smiled a little and deliberately changed the subject. “I tell you the baby likes the name Jack? Kicks at me whenever I say it.” Sort of. He thought he felt kicks anyway.

“Uh-huh. And how many times in a row do you say the name while tapping a finger on Jo’s stomach?”

“Enough to annoy her and get smacked at,” he admitted, sipping at his own coffee.

“It’d be funny if you had a girl then, the name Jack and all.” Sam laughed.

“Jack could be a girl name,” he protested. “Jacqueline Winchester. Jackie. Jake. Jack. It works.”

“Uh-huh. You decided on a birth plan yet?”

“We’re working on it. Jo wants drugs.” She’d made it very clear that his first job upon reaching the hospital was to find someone to give her lots of drugs to dull what she assumed was going to be earth-shattering pain.

A snort of laughter left Sam. “I don’t blame her.”

“Me either. I suggested a home birth at first, then read the baby book she got at the library. Have you _read_ some of the birth stories in that baby book?”

“Um…no. I’m not really --”

“I tell you, Sam, those stories would be enough to put any woman off having kids. One description made being ripped apart by Hellhounds sound like an easier time.”

“I can imagine.”

“I don’t really want to. Other than that? Don’t know yet. I thought we’d have some Zeppelin playing in the delivery room --” He could picture it in his mind. Zeppelin playing, Jo blissed out on drugs for the pain, and a nice short two to four hour labor with no complications. And when it was done, everyone filed in to congratulate them.

It probably wouldn’t be like that, but he could dream, right? 

“Zeppelin? Clear it with Jo first.”

“Maybe the Stones,” he amended.

“Clear it, Dean. Last thing you want right then is her pissed with you. You might want to stay out of reach of her fists regardless.”

“Why?” He took a drink of coffee.

“How likely do you think she’ll be to punch you in the crotch for putting her in that condition?”

Very likely if the stories he’d read were true. “Good point.”

An hour later, Gwen tapped on the window. He rolled it down and she bent with a grin, looking far more refreshed than she should for the amount of sleep she’d been getting. “Hey boys. Any trouble?”

“Nope. No sign of the pod mom or anything. Cop drives by every now and then and the little brat at the end of the street rode by on his bike and gave me the finger twice.”

“He rode by twice and gave you the finger each time or rode by once and gave you the finger twice in a row?”

“Yes. Rode by twice and gave me the finger twice both times. Little brat.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at him,” Sam said, gathering his coffee and the papers he’d brought with him.

“Hey, he could have mowed down a little old lady or something riding like he was on the sidewalk. That kid’s a menace.”

Gwen laughed. “Okay. I’ll watch out for the kid.” She glanced over her shoulder at Lisa’s house. “She left the house at all?”

“Not that we’ve seen.”

“You’re sure she’s still in there?”

Dean looked around her at the house. “She looks out occasionally.” They were close enough to tell it was her, but not what her expression was. Had she noticed them there? Lisa wasn’t stupid. Surely she’d seen them out there. She’d know they were watching the house. As yet, there’d been no acknowledgment from her that they were there, no nod or wave or anything.

“Okay.” Gwen tapped one fist lightly on the door, then jerked her head towards the road. “Go get some sleep, Batman. Be ready in case Gotham needs you.”

Sam got out of the Impala and Dean waited until he and Gwen were in the other car before leaving, doing a careful visual search of the area as he drove. Just because it didn’t look like there was trouble didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Jo was watching tv when he got back and Ben was in the shower. She hit the mute button on the remote. “Sam still upset with Gwen?”

“Hell, yeah.” Sitting, he took off his boots. “He’d rather she was here with you than out there in full view of Lisa’s house and anyone who might possibly recognize her.” Dean crawled up the bed to her, lying beside her and putting an arm around her. “How’s Ben holding up?”

“Remarkably well. Gwen did talk to him, gave him the whole downside speech. He’s pretty much stopped asking leading questions to get information on hunting.”

“Good. Hope it holds up.” It’d be a relief for Ben’s interest in hunting to be squashed flat. Then a part of him could stop worrying.

“Gwen and I took another look at the pictures.” She shifted a little against him. “I don’t think there’s anything we can use. Pics of the pod mom, pics of the house, pics of a mansion. Ben says it’s the Hotchkiss place. I left the laptop on if you want to look at them. Maybe you’ll see something Gwen and I missed.”

“Later. I’m going to sleep awhile first. Wake me when it gets dark, okay?” That’d give him a good four hours of sleep. Dean slid down so that he could rest his head against her breast. He yawned, groaning a little as he settled into place.

“Sure.” Her arm moved around him, hand sliding through his hair. After a moment, she punched the mute button again and sound filled the room. She continued to gently touch his temple, cheek, and hair, slow sweeps that lulled him into relaxing.

Dean laid still, his eyes closing. He heard Ben come in the room and then sound retreated and he slid into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was dozing. That was okay with Gwen. He’d had a difficult, long couple of days and was getting testy. She flicked a glance to him. He had his head laid back, his legs stretched out as far as he could, and wasn’t even snoring, though his breaths were loud.

Lightning flashed. It had yet to rain, but when it came, it was going to be a torrent. Had to be. The clouds in the sky had had a swollen, purplish cast all day.

Something was coming. Something was waiting. She thought it was a good bet it was Molek. Either the storm was in response to the final ritual nearing or something was waiting for him to arrive. She wondered if there had been storms like this on any of the dates of the sacrifices. It would be interesting to track down that information and she might just do that when they got back to base. It’d be a good fact to add to the database.

Opening the small cooler she’d brought, she drew out a sandwich and ate it slowly, gaze ever moving about the area. As she ate, Sam woke and accepted the two sandwiches she’d made for him, plus a snack bag of pretzels that he shared with her. Time passed, night falling. Occasionally, a cop car would drive by like Dean had noted earlier, moving very slowly. Each time, they slid down in their seats. 

The trees began to sway.

Sam closed his eyes again. “Man, I’m tired.”

“Take another nap.”

“And fall down on stakeout duty?”

She snorted. “You’ve done that once already. I’ll wake you if anything happens. Promise.” She did the cross-your-heart gesture.

His hand lashed out, stilling hers. “Don’t do that. Just…don’t, okay?”

“It’s a gesture, Sam.”

“I know, but since we’re pretty sure tonight’s the night, I’d rather not take any chances on anything like that coming true.”

Slowly, Gwen nodded. “Okay. I won’t say it, but I do promise to wake you.”

Night had fallen by the time she saw movement at the Braeden house and it wasn’t Lisa coming outside, it was…. She peered more intently at the person on the doorstep, his profile fully displayed. If it had been Dean here with her, she might have wondered if Sam had decided to go in and do a sweep of the house to make sure Lisa was still in there and okay. He wouldn’t do that without discussing it first, but it’d be the first thought that came to mind. As it was Sam sitting beside her….

“Sam.” Gwen smacked his arm hard. “Wake up.”

He drew in a startled breath and stretched. “I’m awake.”

“Obviously not or you would’ve just seen yourself breaking into Lisa’s house.”

“What?” He shook his head. “No.” 

She opened the door. “Oh yeah. Ben’s doppelganger is a shape shifter. Has to be. Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t often that Lisa suffered from nightmares, but when she did, they were of the variety where she knew she was dreaming yet couldn’t quite wake up. She’d try to scream, to move, to do anything and end up enduring the final moments of her nightmare before the paralysis would lift and she’d wake.

This nightmare….

She dreamed of Sam Winchester watching her sleep, of him standing over her staring.

Lisa woke with a start from the half nightmare and let loose a strangled gasp to see a man actually looming over her.

Sam Winchester.

She felt cold in seconds, goose bumps stripling her skin.

What the hell? Not a dream, not a dream, not --

She rolled on the bed, scrambling away. He was too fast, grasping her arm and pulling her towards him, yanking her so hard that she was airborne for several seconds. She hit the wall, her head smacking hard. A groan slipped from her lips. Lisa slid down the wall, her vision wavering a moment before she lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~

They approached cautiously, checking the back, going in quietly and slowly. While the back door wasn’t standing open, it was unlocked. The house was dark, but certainly not quiet. From upstairs came a strangled noise, like a scream that couldn’t quite be loosed, then a heavy thud and thump. Gwen and Sam went up the stairs.

“Took you long enough, moron.” In a bedroom doorway, Not-Sam appeared, startled for a second, then smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile, throwing Gwen back to when Sam had been soulless. She’d seen that sort of smile on his face a few times. “Well, well, well. The lost child.” His glance flicked to Sam and back. “Excellent.”

“Stop right there.” The voice came from the bottom of the stairs. A man stood there, tall and big in the way some ex-football players were, with the layer of fat over existing muscles rendering a solid, mountainous appearance. His uniform was stretched tight over his frame and he held a gun in a sure grip.

My God, she thought as he came closer. He’s bigger than Sam.

“Up those steps the rest of the way if you please.”

Crowded into the upstairs hallway, she could see Lisa on the floor in the bedroom. There was a small sachet on a chain about her neck and a bloody spot on her brow, but her chest rose and fell with breath. She was alive.

“Put your weapons on the floor. All of them. Your phones as well.”

They did, the man patting Sam down and cuffing him. He turned to Gwen, patting her down with a thoroughness that left her feeling violated. His hands lingered on her, roughly squeezing. The sickening taste of bile rose in the back of her mouth. She had a vague wondering as to whether he was like this all of the time or just when he thought he could get away with it, like now.

“Get your hands off her,” Sam snarled.

He chuckled and stepped away. “Relax, loverboy. This one’s nice, but I’d rather have that blond that was with you yesterday.” He gave Sam a shove. “I saw you two go in and come out awhile later. She’s mighty tasty. I get done tonight, I think I’ll go motel to motel and find her. Have a screaming good time.” He pointed the gun in Sam’s face, pressed it right to his cheek. “What? No protest over her?”

“Stop it, Tim.” Not-Sam came to her, fingers tilting her chin up none to gently, gaze studying her coolly. “It’s amazing.”

“What is,” she asked.

“The resemblance, of course. The one between you and Mia. I didn’t believe her when she showed us the picture, but it’s true. You’re her spitting image.”

“Mia,” she repeated with a glance at Sam beside her, a sinking sensation in her stomach. She imagined his expression mirrored hers at present: surprise and a growing realization of what must have happened when she’d been a baby. Her own mother had taken her away to be sacrificed, likely the one who’d killed her father. No, she thought. Oh no….

“Your mother, dear. She’s going to be so happy to finally see you again.”

“Of course,” Sam whispered. “She disappeared. She ran. If she really did mean to sacrifice you, Neal would have killed her.”

“They got away. They all did.” Not-Sam held out a sachet on a chain. It was the same thing that was around Lisa’s neck. “Put this on.”

“No.” Gwen refused. If they wanted that on her they were going to have to force it on her.

“I could have Tim put it on you. Of course, that’d mean he’d have to subdue you first. I mean, if you really _want_ him groping you again….” Not-Sam shrugged. “One way or another, you’re putting it on.”

Not much of a choice. No way was she going to make it easy for them. “I won’t.”

It didn’t take Tim long to wrestle her to the floor, taking more liberties as he did so. He placed the chain about her neck, then dragged her back up to stand. 

Anger swam in Sam’s eyes, a hot ire that bled across his face as well. “I’ll kill you for touching her.”

Tim snorted. “You got one for him, too?” He made a fist. “If not, I’ll gladly beat him senseless.”

“Down boy. I’ve got several of them. Mia made plenty in case we needed them.”

When Sam had one about his neck as well, Not-Sam said a few words in a language she didn’t know and Gwen lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the appointed time, refreshed and ready to take over for Sam, Dean pulled up and got out. Headlights swept the street, a car slowly coming towards him. Going to Tommy’s mom’s car, he knocked on the window, then bent and glanced in. They weren’t there.

Where the hell were they? Had Lisa relented and let them in the house? Or had something happened?

Drawing out his phone, he checked his texts, then called Jo. “Hey. Did Sam or Gwen call after I left?”

“No, why?”

“They’re not here. I’m going to check the house and call you back.”

He hung up and as he turned, the car that had been coming stopped, red and blue lights flashing. The driver’s door opened, a man every bit as tall and big as Sam getting out. Maybe he was even bigger than Sam. He adjusted his belt and swaggered forward in the way of self-important bullies everywhere. The buttons on his shirt were strained and Dean could see dark splotches of sweat under his arms. “Evening, sir. Care to tell me what’s going on here?”

Crap, Dean thought. “FBI. I’m in the middle of an investigation --”

“That so?” The officer snorted. His nametag had the name ‘Calvin’ on it. “Got credentials?”

“In my car.”

He pursed his lips. “Get it for me, moving nice and slow.”

Dean found it and held it out.

Officer Calvin took it, looking it over far more carefully than most people ever did. “Come with me please.”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation,” he tried again. This was the worst possible time for this to happen.

“So you said. Tell me all about it down at the station.”

“The woman who lives here --”

“At the station. We’ll sort it all out there.”

Great, he thought. Sam and Gwen are missing and I have to deal with Deputy Barney. Seeing no other way out, he got into the cop car.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo waited a reasonable fifteen minutes for Dean to call back and when he didn’t, she called him. Nothing. Nor did Sam or Gwen answer their phones. She even tried Lisa’s numbers. No one picked up and she tried Dean again.

“Come on, pick up.” Jo didn’t leave a message. “Something’s wrong. Let’s go.”

“But Dean said to stay here.”

“He’ll understand.”

They’d just pulled out of the motel lot when Jo’s phone rang. “Finally,” she answered. “Where the hell…. Oh, mom. Hold on.” She held out the phone. “Ben, put her on speaker. Go on, mom.”

“I did that digging Sam asked. He said ASAP, so here it goes. Turns out Molek isn’t actually a god -- don’t ask how Bobby and I got confirmation on that. Let’s just say it wasn’t through usual channels. Anyway, he’s a demon that was worshipped like one. He’s very old and very nasty and probably cranky from being shut up in hell for a couple thousand years or so. He’s not as old or as deep as Lilith and others were, but he’s supposed to be in a corner there somewhere.”

Static crackled on the line and Jo frowned. Was the storm now affecting the cell towers? “All of the usual methods of dealing with demons should apply?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Jo, he looks to be on the same power level as that yellow-eye demon. Source said he’s mad, bad, and completely dangerous to deal with, possibly insane, if you can imagine that.”

“An insane demon? That’s a new one on me.”

“Yeah, well, be careful. I wouldn’t want to be going up against that bad boy if he’s the one being set free. ”

“Anything else?”

“Couple things. Not sure how they fit in. That property Sam mentioned is owned by the family still, but up for sale --”

“I thought some group bought it,” Ben interrupted.

“Jo, who’s there with you?”

“Long, long story that I’ll tell you later. You say it wasn’t sold?” She turned onto Lisa’s street.

“Nope. It’s for sale, no takers.”

“Which means the people there are squatting.”

Ellen cleared her throat. “It’s possible the murders were a set of locks that can crack open a small window into hell and free him. Who knows what might ride his back out with him once that window is open? Not saying anything but him could get free but if it so…. Could be a mini Devil’s Gate if you’re not careful and you know just the sort of things that got free there.”

“I do. Thanks, mom.”

“You be careful, Jo. I’d like to meet my grandkid, not bury you and him or her, okay?”

“I know. Love you, mom.”

They got out of the car. The Impala was parked behind the car Sam and Gwen had been using, but no one was in either car. The windows on the Impala were down. Jo surveyed the area. Dark and peaceful, a warm breeze rustling the treetops. “Dean didn’t leave here willingly.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’d be here and so would Sam and Gwen. Not to mention it’s about to pour and he’d have those windows up so the seats wouldn’t get damaged. Something’s wrong. Help me roll these up real quick.”

When the windows were rolled up, Ben asked, “What do we do? Dean said to stay at the motel.” He seemed to be hung up on that order.

“Dean’s not answering his phone.” She dialed him several times, listening carefully like she had years before, only this time she didn’t hear the ring around them. “He’s definitely not here either. Let’s go in the house, check for anything. We’re going to go in slow and quiet. Follow me and don’t make a sound.” She took out her gun. His gaze lowered to it and he swallowed hard enough she could hear it. “I mean it, Ben. No running up the stairs to check on your mom. We do this my way or you could get seriously injured.”

“Okay.”

They headed around to the back of the house. The back door was wide open.

“She never leaves the door standing open,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. Stay behind me.”

They cleared the lower level, Jo grabbing the cordless phone and shoving it into Ben’s hands before they moved up the stairs. Ben’s room was empty and she motioned him inside with a whispered order to stay put and call 911 if he heard any commotion.

She finished clearing the second story. Lisa’s bedroom a mess. Covers trailed the floor towards the door and there was a smudge of blood on the wall. Jo closed the door, not wanting Ben to see that if he came out of his room. Someone had gotten to Lisa first and since Sam, Gwen, and Dean weren’t here, she had to assume they’d all been taken as well. She had to assume it was up to her and Ben to save them.

“Jo?”

She turned. Ben had opened his door and was staring at the floor inside the room, lip curled like he was seeing something disgusting. “What?”

“I think I found something.”

She approached him, stepping into the room. “What?”

“Over there.” 

On the floor on the other side of the bed was the skin of a shape shifter in all of it’s ickiness. Jo put her gun away. “There’s your doppelganger, Ben. That’s a shape shifter skin.”

“Like a snake?”

He looked more disturbed than fascinated, which boded well for him dropping the subject of hunting. She remembered the first shape shifter skin she’d seen. She’d been fascinated by it and grossed out at the same time. “Pretty disgustingly much, only human sized. Crapsticks. Does your mom have any silver in the house?”

“Just the good stuff great aunt Bernice gave her.”

“Get a couple of the knives.”

It had to be the Hotchkiss mansion, didn’t it? That was where the invitation had been to and that was where Ben claimed there was activity, not to mention that it was out in the middle of nowhere.

She chewed at her lower lip. A pregnant hunter and a frightened teenager did not a cavalry make, but it was going to have to do. Jo pressed one hand to her stomach, then nodded. They’d make it work. Somehow.

Going to the Impala, she opened the trunk, surveying what Sam and Dean had packed. Geez. Everything but the kitchen sink it looked like. No way she was going to leave it unlocked when they left. She searched quickly and found the Colt, then grabbed up a few provisions they might need.

The drive to the mansion didn’t take long, Ben guiding her on the best place to park. He took her in on an access road and not the driveway, the end of the road giving a good view of the front of the mansion. There were no cars parked out front and it didn’t appear that anyone was there.

“I’m going to check it out. You stay here,” she told him. She’d barely gotten her door closed before he was beside her. “Ben! I told you to stay in the car,” Jo hissed. “Get back in it!”

“And let you go in alone? You’re pregnant. Dean’d kill me if I was here and didn’t do anything and you got hurt. I can shoot a gun.”

“I’m not giving you a gun.”

“I’m going in with you.”

Jo rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time to argue with him on this. “Fine, but you do exactly as I tell you. No improvising or thinking you’re immortal. This isn’t a video game and if we screw up, I highly doubt any of us will get out of here alive -- if they’re even here.”

“I got it.”

“Do you?”

“Let’s go.” He gestured at the building.

She took a knife from her jacket pocket. “Here. Use it if you have to, but be careful. It’s sharp. Is your phone turned off?”

“Why?”

“You want it to give away our position if it rings?” Her own phone was off as well.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” He pulled out his phone and shut it down. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Follow me then. Keep quiet, keep low, and whatever you do, don’t scream if you see anything.”

The house lived up to the term ‘mansion’, a sprawling structure that seemed to glow eerily in the flashes of lighting. It was empty, no lights showing. Jo was about to turn away, when she heard…. “Do you hear that,” she asked.

“Someone talking,” he whispered back.

The voice was from the north, back behind the house near the woods. Jo took a few steps along the path. “You do exactly what I tell you,” she reiterated.

“I know,” he returned.

They headed north.

~~~~~~~~~~

Officer Calvin didn’t arrest him, though he did seem to relish having what he thought was an FBI agent in cuffs over suspected burglary charges. He took his time dragging Dean into the office and cuffing him to a chair. As Dean’s phone began to ring for the fifteenth time, Calvin growled. “Give me that damn thing!” 

Dean took it out. It was Jo calling. She’d be worried by now about what had happened and he knew very well that if she didn’t get an answer soon, she’d head out the motel room door to investigate for herself. “I’ll just power it down.” When he’d done so, he slipped it back into his pocket. He didn’t want to not have it on him when he did need it and suspected giving it to Officer Calvin meant it’d be destroyed pretty quickly. 

Calvin sat, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up over his muscular forearms.

There, on the right forearm, was a tattoo. It had that raw look of one done recently. Dean’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he studied it. He’d seen it before, like in the past few days. It was the same tattoo Sam had had a picture of in the file. A symbol with the initials ‘MLK’ in the center.

Alarm ticked his pulse a bit faster and he began to study his surroundings more carefully. It was awfully quiet. In fact, for the size of the town, it was too quiet. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched as far as the cuff on his left wrist would allow and turned his head to look into the office on his right. A woman was behind the desk, slumped in her chair, her brown uniform darker on the chest than the fabric should be.

“So where is everyone?”

“What do you mean?” Calvin glanced up from the paper he was writing on.

“Seems there should be more staff here. Town size and all.”

“Convention, maternity leave, vacations and budget cuts. Surely you fancy Feebies got all that too?”

“Of course, of course.” He smiled thinly and continued his study of the room. In the aisle between the desks was a dark splotch that could have been spilled coffee. Could have been, except now that Dean was paying attention, he could smell the slightest scent of blood in the air. Minutes passed, the only sounds were their breaths, the clock on the wall, and the scratching of Calvin’s pen on the paper. “Do you think the raising will be successful this time,” he asked in an earnest, friendly tone.

Calvin froze. “Raising?” He cocked his head. Dean could almost hear him trying to decide what to say next.

With a glance left and right, Dean leaned forward. “Come on, man.” He shrugged his brows. “Molek. It’s tonight.”

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. Surprise glinted in his eyes, quickly followed by annoyance. “Son of a…. _She_ send you?”

She? Dean nodded. “Guilty.”

Officer Calvin shook his head. “Why didn’t you just say so? Why the act?” He went on, answering his own question. “Paranoid bitch doesn’t trust anyone to do the job she gave them.”

“You blame her? Heavy stakes.”

He snorted. “No kidding.” They were best buddies apparently now, Calvin leaning forward. “She tell you about the Campbells, too?”

“Just the basics.”

“Wild, right? Persecuting her family like they did? Following them all over the world?”

Dean nodded again. Persecuting her family? A family of witches? There was something about that in the archives. The Campbell family tracking a couple of families of witches for centuries, following them about the world. “Definitely. Wild.”

“Guess it’s understandable she’s like she is ‘cause of that. You can tell her I’ve got everything covered here, though. Ain’t no one coming in to stop her party.”

“Good, good.” He gestured at the cuffs. “How about you unlock me so I can get out there?” Where, he wondered. Where was the sacrifice going to be? The mansion maybe? Ben had mentioned it. And how long could he keep this dumb lug talking before he got suspicious? “She’ll be mighty pissed if I’m not there to help when she needs me. Don’t want that to happen.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen what she can do.” He got up and came around the desk. “If you’d been a little earlier at the Braeden house, you could’ve helped me cart those three out there. Cate was certainly no help. Uppity bitch. Thinks she’s so special just ‘cause she might be picked.” His repertoire of insults appeared to be limited to ‘bitch’. Crouching down, Calvin reached for the cuffs and fitted the key in the lock. “I didn’t see you at the barn earlier.”

“I wasn’t at the barn.” Barn? Was there a barn at the mansion?

“Yeah? Why’d she give you a free pass at initial prep? Cate, Millicent, and I had to be there.” 

“Hadn’t gotten to town yet.”

The lock clicked, but Calvin didn’t open the cuff, glance raising to Dean, suspicion beginning to swim there. “That’s not true, is it? Saw that car you were in parked outside the Braeden place yesterday.”

Dean pulled his wrist free and snapped a punch forward as Calvin grasped that Dean wasn’t what he’d been making out. Calvin staggered backwards, blood dripping from his nose, hands catching himself before he could topple over completely. Dean shoved the chair back. This was going to be hard and messy.

He was right on both counts. Calvin wasn’t letting him go without a fight. They went down the length of the room, demolishing various pieces of office furniture in their wake. Dean was thrown against the wall. No sooner had he fallen to the floor then Calvin was picking him up and slamming him down on the top of one messy desk. Something dug into his back right under his left shoulder blade. Stapler maybe? The man’s fist raised, his lips parting, teeth baring.

Calvin began to shudder, his body shaking as though a live current was going through him. The hand clenched in Dean’s shirt opened. Blood trickled from his nose, eyes, mouth, and ears. He screamed, dropping to the floor, bucking, a chain around his neck sliding free. His hands went to his shirt collar, tugging at it, eyes bulging in their sockets until, with an agonized shriek, they burst.

Getting up from the desktop, Dean crouched down beside the body.

Officer Calvin had what looked rather like a hex bag around his neck -- which indicated to Dean that he’d been ‘hired help’ and not one of the actual witches. They’d promised him something, maybe given him the bag and claimed it was a gift, something that’d bring him luck. Poor bastard had been stupid enough to believe whatever they’d told him.

The bag split suddenly, a puddle of what looked like black pudding welling from it. It pulsed a moment and popped, a hazy mist rising into the air that smelled strongly of sulfur. The mist dissipated.

What the hell? It was _something_ demonic. Had to be. But what?

A quick search of the rest of the building found five more officers, all with their throats cut.

Time was running out, Dean could feel it. He left the building, borrowed the police car and drove to pick up the Impala.

There was a message from Jo in his voicemail. “Dean, Ben and I are headed out to the Lisa’s, then the Hotchkiss place. Where are you? Call me when you get this, okay?”

Jo didn’t pick up her phone.

Dread settled in his gut.

“Damn it, Jo, answer,” he growled. It didn’t work. The calls kept going to voicemail. He tried them all: Jo, Gwen, Sam, and even Ben. They all went to voicemail.

Calvin had said he’d taken three from Lisa’s house, likely Sam, Gwen, and Lisa. He’d mentioned a barn. Didn’t some mansions have barns on the property, for when people had used horses to get around? He’d try there first and if that wasn’t the place…. No. It had to be. That invitation Ben had told them about had mentioned it and Jo and Ben were on their way there. By now, they would have had time to check out Lisa’s and discover she wasn’t there, nor were Sam and Gwen. They’d be going to the mansion or already there.

Dean headed towards the Hotchkiss mansion.

In the sky above, lightning flashed in constant tiny bursts, like the lights on a Christmas tree, and thunder rumbled, low and ominous.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to GemL who brainstormed with me on this chapter.

Sam could smell earth and straw, rain and sulfur, with an undercurrent of fresh paint and mold. He was sitting on the ground, arms raised above his head. He opened his eyes, one eye not wanting to open all the way. That dick of a police officer must have beaten on him after he’d passed out. His vision wavered, hazy images struggling to come into focus. He was in a barn…maybe. That ground beneath him felt like dirt and not wood or stone and he stared at it until it came into focus. Dirt and definitely a barn. Straight ahead of him was a table-like structure. To the right and left of it were stairs leading up to a loft that ringed the barn and was filled with hay bales. The entire upper level was bursting with hay bales that looked like they could fall at any second. His head was pounding and pain lanced through his wrists when he tried to move them, the grogginess that encased him easing in tiny degrees.

“What the hell happened,” he tried to say, the words coming out slurred together.

“Sshhh, Sam. Don’t struggle, honey. Just relax. The spell will dissipate in a few seconds and you’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just little sleep spell, that’s all. I had to do it to transport you all here safely.”

A woman crouched beside him and for a few confused blinks, he thought it was Gwen, but then his vision finally returned to normal and it registered that she was much older than Gwen. Her hair was cut in a similar style and she looked to be slim and trim. This was what Gwen was going to look like when she was…what?…in her mid-fifties? Still attractive.

She touched his wrists, glance flicking above his head to them. “I have to tighten this a little more, okay? Don’t want you slipping free and destroying all of my hard work.”

“Mia,” he guessed in a croaking tone. His throat felt dry and scratchy.

Her smile was slow and delighted. “Oooh, you are a smart one! My girl has good taste. The smart ones are always best. Especially if they’re wrapped up in a nice appealing package.” She slid her hands down his arms, squeezing as though assessing his muscle tone. Mia let one hand drop from him, the other patting his cheek in an almost fond gesture. “Don’t struggle, or you’re liable to slit your wrists and neither of us want that, do we? Bailing wire is useful, but a little on the dangerous side.” She said it like there was a chance she wasn’t going to kill him later and touched the tip of her index finger to his nose in an almost playful gesture.

“Where’s Gwen? What have you done with her?” Bailing wire? No wonder his wrists hurt. It had to be the tiny points digging into his skin.

“Oh, she’s right over there beside the other one.” She gestured to his left. Gwen and Lisa were both at the next support post, also tied, only their bonds were rope. They had those weird sachets around their necks, their heads bowed, both unconscious.

Why did he get the bailing wire and not them? Perhaps Mia didn’t trust him not to pull an escape of some sort. Did she realize Gwen was just as capable? “What do you want?” It had an obvious answer but he asked it anyway, trying to remember what he knew about bailing wire. It was used to secure hay bales and…if he could get a kink in it it’d snap.

“Peace on earth, good will to men, silly.”

He stared at her and it was like seeing Gwen giving a little joke. Mia arched a brow and smiled. Her laugh was the tinkling laugh of a teenager, not a woman in her fifties.

“Kidding. I’m only kidding, Sam. Relax. You’re quite the touchy big boy, aren’t you? You’ll make a good body for him when he gets here.”

“I thought I was to be his body.” The voice was petulant and Sam noticed two more women standing across the barn from him on the other side of the strange table. Had they been there all along? He hadn’t noticed either of them. It was the youngest of the two that had spoken. “You promised me the honor.”

The table was an altar, he thought. Had to be. She’d need one to perform the sacrifice and free Molek.

Mia’s smile faded and she turned her head only slightly, waving a hand. He saw her lip curl. “He’ll choose. Both of you have pluses, Cate. He might like Sam’s size or he might like your ability to shape shift. We’ll see. The ball will be in his court when he arrives. We’ll be here to do his bidding, to serve him as well as we have while he was imprisoned.” She returned her attention to Sam, held up a knife, and applied it to his shirt, slicing along his chest and parting the fabric. “So….” Mia rested the point of her knife against his skin. “Should I flay this tattoo off now, or wait and see what he prefers?”

“Where’s your uniformed lackey? I’m sure he’d be happy to do it for you.”

“You mean Tim? I’m sure he would, but….” A smug expression slid into her eyes, one brow raising and her voice lowering. “He’s not here any longer.”

Not here as in not in this location or not here as in dead? It could be either. Part of him wanted the man to already be dead, but another part wanted to be the one to kill him, to cause him as much pain and suffering as possible because of the way he’d manhandled Gwen.

Mia removed the knife from his skin and leaned in close. “He’s permanently indisposed,” she whispered low in his ear.

“Good,” he spat.

“I agree.” Her expression was earnest as she sat back again. “You shouldn’t feel bad, you know. About being caught, I mean. It’s not a reflection on your skills. I’ve simply learned to expect hunters on these nights and Tim lived just down the street from Lisa. He was able to watch her from his house. It’s why you didn’t notice him and why I picked him to approach when I arrived. Well…. That and the fact that he was quite the piece of work. You already knew that though. I had him go with Cate, keep a watch on the outside for trouble and you obliged. Good boy.” She adjusted the fabric. “There. He can see it and decide what he wants to do. Perfect.” She waved the knife. “Have to go speak with daughter dearest now. You wait here.” Winking at him, Mia laughed at her own joke.

Great, Sam thought. Not only was Gwen’s mother a murderous witch with a shape shifter companion, she was clearly off her rocker as well.

He took another look around the barn, studying it, trying to find any way out of this. The wire dug into his wrists and he couldn’t reach the ends she’d twisted together. Mia was right. If he outright struggled, he was going to shred his wrists, but there was a tiny bit of give. Sam thought that he could get the wire to bend if he brought his hands together. He made an experimental movement, leaning his head back to look at his wrists.

There. A slight bend to the wire that hadn’t been there before. It was going to hurt to get it to the breaking point, but that pain would be nothing if Mia did what she planned. He couldn’t just sit here and let her kill Gwen and Lisa.

Where were Dean and Jo? And Ben? He had to assume that either Mia didn’t know about them or she didn’t think they were a danger to her plans. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that she’d killed them. Right now, that wasn’t an option.

The few windows he noticed were blacked out with paint and he turned to look behind him. The large door into the barn was half open. He could see trees swaying in wild arcs whenever lightning flashed. Thunder kept up an almost constant rumble and the scent of coming rain was heavy. The storm was almost upon them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s face was battered. It was the first thing Gwen noticed when her vision focused. Officer Friendly had done a number on him and Gwen felt a bit less bad about her own sense of violation, wincing a little. Provided they got out of this, he was going to hurt for days and she was going to have nightmares about that pat-down.

She studied the room, noting that it was a rectangular structure, a barn, with the large door half open. It had stalls on either side, four support beams and a loft. She and Lisa were tied to one beam. Lisa was gagged. There was dirt and blood on her nightgown and a bruised, raw spot on her forehead that had dried blood around it. Her hair was tangled. Sam was tied to the post on her right. Gwen squinted. Was that wire about his wrists? Across from them, between the opposite two posts, was an altar. She could smell sawdust and wondered which of the women in the barn had built it. Or perhaps the officer had built it for them? At the far end of the barn, near the corner on the right, she thought there might be another door.

Only when she’d looked over the barn thoroughly did she let herself look at the woman waiting patiently next to her. Gwen turned her head, slowly looking up at her own features. Her chin trembled. Her birth mother. Mia Carys. Witch. “Mia.”

“Look. At. You.” The woman who was her birth mother smiled and knelt beside her. The smile and gentle caress to her face would have been touching had she not obviously been the villain here. “More beautiful and _grown_ than I ever dreamed you’d be. Oh, Gwen….” Her hand dropped from Gwen’s face, the smile disappearing and her tone hardening. “I should have known Aaron’s little band of associates would take you in, but to be honest, it never occurred to me. They never seemed the type to take in orphans. I mean, the sort of messes they left behind, they were more likely to burn all bridges remaining than try to save any of them. But then, I suppose they did care for Aaron. Treated him like one of their own.”

“Aaron,” she asked carefully.

“Your father. Aaron Carys. Not his real last name, of course. Just the one he was using.” She tsked. “Poor Aaron. Even when his adored wifey-poo of three years was gutting him, he assumed I was possessed. Tried to exorcise a demon.” She laughed as though it was hilarious. “He spouted Latin right through his last breath. Mmmm.” Mia shook her head as though it was a fond memory. “Never occurred to him that I was sick of his whining, his annoying habits, and him period. Besides, he’d given me you and them and I was done with him.”

Gwen swallowed hard. All of her hopes and prayers weren’t being answered. Her birth mother was really this twisted woman, a witch who’d killed her father and many others. A monster. A part of her had suspected this all along. Dreaded this. She turned her head a bit more to look at Sam, to see how he was reacting. ‘I love you,’ he mouthed and Gwen bit her lower lip, returning her attention to Mia. Nausea did a slow spin in her gut, the taste of bile returning to the back of her throat. She thought back to Castiel’s warning and wanted to turn back time and heed it.

_‘Don’t pursue it. You won’t like what you find.’_

How true that was! She’d imagined her mother dying to save her or being out there in the world heartbroken because she’d lost her child. She’d hoped for that or something like it, prayed for everything but this outcome.

This was what Castiel had meant wasn’t it? This was what he’d known and attempted to warn her away from discovering.

Her mother was a witch, the very one trying to raise Molek, and Gwen was regretting not heeding the angel’s warning.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron…always going on about being special and how you were special. His special baby girl with a destiny. Blech.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, my little sacrificial lamb, he didn’t know how right he was. You’re special and all because of your birth date. Nothing more. And only to me and Molek. That’s your destiny.” She reached to one side and held up a book. “Do you recognize this?”

“It’s a hunter’s journal.” More specifically, it was one of Neal Campbell’s journals. The mark on the cover gave that away. Where had Mia gotten it?

“Very good. But it’s not just any hunter’s journal, it’s Neal’s journal and he was very good about keeping records and making observations. He was a master at it. Aaron once said he was the keeper of the family archives. Now, since Neal and Patty raised you, I assume you know how to read their shorthand. That’s the one thing I was never able to learn, one thing they guarded. Only family, he said. Not even Aaron knew Neal’s shorthand and what a puzzle it has been. I thought I was good at word puzzles and such, but I must admit, Neal’s code has me beat. Now,” she opened the book and held it up, “be a good girl and tell mother what Samuel was reading on this page the day I killed him.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m curious. He refused to tell me even as he lay dying, something sappy about not adding another sin to compound the rest.” She shrugged. “And because I know many ways to hurt a man without killing him. Sam looks strong to me, but I bet I can have him begging me for mercy in seconds.”

“You don’t know my pain thresh hold,” Sam interjected. “I can take anything you dish out.”

He had the highest pain thresh hold Gwen had ever seen and would be able to withstand a lot. She didn’t want him to have to, though, not over something that might not even be important.

Mia ignored him. “You choose, darling. Read out loud or I test just how high Sam’s pain threshold really is.”

She met Sam’s gaze again. He shook his head. “Don’t do it, Gwen.”

“Do it,” Mia coaxed.

“Don’t read her anything,” Sam spat. Above his hand, his hands moved in the circle of the wire binding them, slow, methodical movements.

Mia pointed her knife at him. “You are a naughty boy, trying to influence her. Perhaps I should split your tongue to begin with. Or start with a spell, work your insides.”

She continued on in that vein and Gwen skimmed the pages, reading quickly, very aware that any second Mia could pull the book away and start in on Sam. This could be the last chance she had for real information in Neal’s own words.

_‘Dear God, what have we done? We encouraged a good man, an ally, to find happiness and this is the result? A witch in our midst. A young, sweet girl that was anything but either. How do I tell Patty that the woman Aaron loved, the one who carried their child, and ate at our dinner table, is the same one responsible for the sacrificial attempts to release Molek from hell? How do I tell her that Mia tried to sacrifice Gwen? Her own blood. How could a parent do that?_

_I can’t give Gwen to someone else to raise, not knowing Mia is out there and will be looking for her. Can’t leave her with a civilian when by her birth she’s special. The sacrifice of a mother giving her child, it’s powerful on an evil level. If Mia finds Gwen? I won’t let that happen. We’ll have to raise her ourselves, prepare her to defend herself in case the day comes when Mia finds her.’_

Everything was clear. The restrictions upon her, the training. Of course. They’d been terrified that Mia would find her and take her as a sacrifice before she could defend herself. She looked up at the woman. “It says you’re a skuzzy bitch who deserves the worst fires of hell.”

Rage gleamed in Mia’s eyes and she backhanded Gwen, a hard slap that split her lip and left the taste of blood in her mouth. “Didn’t Neal and Patty teach you to show respect to your elders?” She shut the book and tossed it aside. It landed at Sam’s feet.

“Only if they deserve respect.”

“I’m your mother.”

“Patricia was my mother. You’re just the woman who gave birth to me.” Gwen hurried on. She had to keep Mia talking, give Dean and Jo a chance to find them. The longer she kept Mia talking, the better the chance of being found. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that the bad guys almost always loved talking about themselves and their plans. It made no difference if they were human monsters or supernatural ones. They all had that pride that made them want to talk to their victims. Mia didn’t appear to be any different, very chatty. “Why my father? Why not some other guy?”

Mia pursed her lips, eyes narrowing a moment before her expression smoothed out. “Okay. I suppose you deserve to learn something about your father.” She shifted position a little. “You should have seen him. Aaron was quite the young stud, like yours over there.” She indicated Sam with a wave of her hand. “Tall for the time, muscular. A real gentleman. Sensitive, you know. Big on destiny bullshit and very smart, almost freakishly so…except where his dick was concerned. That’s men for you, right?” She smiled. “They all have trouble with their fly. He was no exception.”

“Sam and I aren’t--”

“Uh-uh-uh.” She waggled a finger. “Don’t bother trying to lie to mother, dear. I see how you look at him and he at you. You’re _involved_.” She flicked a sidelong glance at him. “I don’t blame you. He’s very pretty. I bet he’s terrific in bed.” Her self-satisfied curl of a grin faded, a faraway light coming into her eyes. “It was nothing to make Aaron come to me. I didn’t even need spells. All I had to do was be sweet and kind, let him think I was innocent and pure.”

Sam snorted. “Some illusion you managed to project.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “You see, he didn’t see much of that, not in his line of work. I had to study him for awhile before implementing my plan, figure him out. I made him fall in love with me and he got me closer to the Campbells, the thorn in my family’s side for a very long time. We’d lost them back in the Twenties, but they kept looking. They never stopped looking. I found _them_ , though, when I was ready. I snuck in and boy, did I have plans for them! I was going to give them to Molek. He’d like that, you know. Feasting on a family of hunters.”

“They stopped you from raising him.” Sam shifted position.

“They did.” She acknowledged Sam’s point with a pensive nod. “They were very pesky. However, they missed three successive sacrifices. I had twelve years of good luck and now it’s up to sixteen and look.” She gestured between Gwen and Lisa. “I’ve got two former potential sacrifices to choose from.” That self-satisfied grin returned. “He’s going to be so pleased! Most of the Campbells are dead now, but he’ll wipe out the last of the bloodline within days. He’s like a bloodhound, Gwen. He can smell a bloodline, sniff it out. He’ll track down every last trace, including Sam over there and his brother -- unless he chooses one of them as his host. He might. Or he might kill them and any other person they and the Campbells ever considered family.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m not insane, Gwen dear. I’m goal oriented. I’m also one of the very last of Molek’s true followers. His last chance to leave hell. He’ll be grateful. No one else is certainly inclined to release him. This world has mostly forgotten him, save a few mentions in old books here and there, and he’s made too many enemies even in hell.”

“He’s not a god? He’s just a demon?”

“Does it really matter? Anything or one can be a god these days and he’s still very powerful.”

“How do you know who Sam and Dean are,” Gwen asked, trying to drag it out.

“Oh, I was quite persuasive at that warehouse base. The only one who gave me real trouble was the teenager. So of course I had to find out who it was she was texting.”

“You killed all of them.”

“It’s only fair considering how many of my family they killed over the years. Tit for tat. Eye for an eye.” Mia shifted position, hands removing the necklace that was around Lisa’s neck. Immediately, Lisa began to rouse, head turning. Mia wasn’t patient however and slapped her hard. “Wake up!”

Lisa’s eyes went wide with terror and she tried to scramble away, only succeeding in sweeping the straw about the floor with her bare feet.

“You’ve been more trouble than you’re worth.” Mia touched the tip of her knife to Lisa’s chin. “First, I almost got caught taking you from the hospital, then a _hunter_ saved you. Snatched you right from the crib when I turned my back to prepare for the ritual. Then… _then_ your family moved away and didn’t leave a forwarding address. Usually people are dumb and do. Not your family. They did a smart thing. I lost you. You were supposed to be the one to end the cycle then, but no, I had to start all over.” Drawing back, she slapped Lisa again, then gripped her jaw in what looked to be a painful grasp. “I had to start all over with _my own child_ because she was born at the right time on the right day. I didn’t want to, you know. She was supposed to follow in my footsteps, take over my position when she was old enough and now I have no daughter to pass my legacy on to. But I had to do it. My faith in him demanded I give her to him. If it hadn’t been for you being rescued, I wouldn’t have had to offer her up.”

How long had the cycle been going on, Gwen wondered. Mia Carys wasn’t old enough to have begun the cycle.

“You’re going to be first. Your death to close the gate and keep him from being sucked back down.” She stood and moved to the altar, speaking in low tones to the two women there, who hurried to gather items for her and lay them out.

“We’ll get out of this,” Gwen whispered to Lisa, who squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. It was a hollow promise. What else could she say? ‘We’re probably toast’ wouldn’t reassure her, though it seemed the truth at present.

“You’re not going to get away with this, Mia,” Sam warned.

Mia glanced over her shoulder at him, her smile amused. “Honey, I’m mostly there already.” She finished whatever she was doing and turned, clapping her hands twice. “Okay then! Let’s get this party started!”

One of the women approached, sliding the necklaces back over Gwen and Lisa’s heads. Consciousness slid sharply away, returning quicker when she woke the next time. They were deeper in the building, lying side by side on that wooden construction, bound at the ankles and bound with their arms stretched above their heads. They were both gagged this time.

One woman stood slightly back from Mia and the other was near the door. Keeping an eye on Sam? She seemed to be watching him more than any other place in the barn.

“The first three sacrifices are flesh by fire.” As Mia continued, she circled the altar, sprinkling an herb from a bowl onto the floor. “The fourth is a bit of blood to open the door and then a death to slam it shut when he’s been freed. The next step after he’s taken possession of his host is a live body given to him to nourish him after his long hunger in hell. Gwen, you’ll have that honor. His first meal. The distinction of your birth should please him even more.”

Lisa’s eyes seemed to widen further and Gwen tugged at her bonds. Being eaten alive by a demon didn’t sound like anything near a good time. She twisted her wrists, trying to loosen the knots, rough rope scratching her skin.

“So which of my lambs do I bleed to open that gate? The sacrifice who’ll close it? Or the one who’ll be his first meal?” She pointed with her knife. “Eeney, meanie, miney,” the knife turned to Gwen, “Moe.”

Her heart beat fast and hard, the bonds digging into her flesh. A frantic glance at Sam showed him straining at the wire holding him, blood dripping along his skin.

“Gwen,” he yelled. “No! _No_!”

Mia whispered something low. The woman by the door fell to the ground, convulsing.

“Millicent!” The shape shifter, Cate, moved around the altar, hurrying to the woman. Millicent’s body shook with violent spasms, back arching. Frothy foam, colored red by blood, came from her mouth. She gasped for breath, hands clawing at her throat, nails digging into the flesh and bloody stripes appearing as she ripped into her own throat. With a last gurgle, her body relaxed, head rolling to one side, eyes dull and lifeless. The small bag on a chain around her neck broke open, revealing a black pudding substance that burst, spewing a mist into the air that smelled of sulfur.

A satisfied grin lingered on Mia’s lips. She spoke a few more words, but her grin disappeared as she watched the remaining woman. “You’re not wearing the token of favor I gave you, Cate.”

She scrambled back from Millicent’s body and stood. “If that’s what your favor brings I’m glad I left it off. Is Tim dead, too?”

“Awhile ago,” Mia admitted. “And I had something particularly spectacular planned for you.”

Relief at the admittance that Tim was already dead surged through Gwen, but didn’t last long. She twisted and bucked, working her wrists and ankles until the skin on her wrists felt raw. Gwen panted from those efforts to free herself. Beside her, Lisa was still and silent, her eyes squeezed shut. Out of sight, out of mind? Praying? Pretending she was anywhere but here?

With a cry, Cate charged forward.

Mia fought like a woman half her age, punching and kicking, slashing with her knife. Cate was no slouch at fighting either, staying out of reach of that knife. Maybe they’d kill each other and it’d be over.

The thought spurred Gwen on in her struggles as the two women wrestled and it felt as though the rope at her wrists slackened a fraction.

In a quick movement, Mia lashed her arm towards the shape shifter, slashing the woman’s throat. Blood splashed along her and the ground. “Goodbye, Cate.”

The shape shifter fell to the ground, her blood seeping into it.

Mia stood over the body, her chest heaving with breath, the hand with the knife trembling, the other curling into a fist over and over again. Her face was mottled with emotion, the light in her eyes gleeful.

This was a woman who enjoyed killing. Gwen could easily imagine her crouched over Aaron Carys, giggling with pleasure as she ripped open his chest and stomach. Samuel had died that way. Mia’s favorite method perhaps? Had she put a spell on Samuel to make him lie still while she killed him? Had he regretted the way everything had gone?

She hurried to the altar, grasping Gwen’s arm and slicing her knife along it, then grabbing Lisa’s arm and doing the same, muttering low. Gwen had expected her to collect blood from them, but she didn’t, her muttering increasing. Mia sprinkled another herb along the outer circle of the symbol.

With a slight shaking, a crack appeared in the earth. A black smoke whirled up from the crack like a tornado, hovering a moment over Lisa, then zipping to Gwen, stopping a breath from her. It tried to touch her, a tendril poking, and seemed to seethe above her. She could feel the evil looking down at her, sense that this demon was studying her, taking her mettle.

I’m protected, you bastard, she thought, very glad she’d bitten the bullet and gotten a discreet small protection tattoo not long after she’d left the Campbell compound. She’d gone to the tattoo artist Sam had recommended, a guy he and Dean had once done a favor for. She’d gotten a discount on the price.

It slid over to Lisa, snaked a tendril out and touched her. Her eyes opened, her screams audible through her gag. It went down her body, tapping, and Gwen had the uncomfortable idea that it was taunting Lisa, teasing her without any real intention of taking her over.

Suddenly, the demon turned and dove into a startled Mia, who staggered, then rolled her head on her neck. “Mmmm. So long since I was out.” Molek stepped close to Gwen. “Not nice, my dear girl, putting a protection symbol on your flesh. Not nice at all.” Her hand dragged the gag down, gripped Gwen’s jaw. “I haven’t killed a hunter in centuries. You’re going to be tasty.” Molek looked at Sam, then stepped to him, crouching before him. “Well, well, well. Sam Winchester. Azazel’s golden boy. Lucifer’s vessel. I see Mia found your tattoo. Maybe I will cut it right off and jump inside. We’ll have a nice ride together.”

“My will was stronger than Lucifer’s. I doubt I’ll have trouble with you.”

“I’ve heard the story. We do get news even as deep as I was. But I don’t see your brother here, boy. That makes you weak. But first…. Time to close that gate for good.” Going to the altar, Molek circled it to stand beside Lisa. Molek giggled, a disturbing sound that was like a small child’s giggle, and bent over Lisa, walking the fingers of one hand up her body, the other holding the knife to Lisa’s throat. “I’m going to kill you, sweetpea. How do you feel about that,” she cooed.

Lisa whimpered.

She raised the knife and lowered it, stopping a fraction before it could plunge into Lisa’s chest. “Oh! Not quite!” She did it again. “Just missed you!” She continued to do the same thing over and over, taunting Lisa with the very real danger and taking advantage of the fact that she was a civilian, an innocent, and there was nothing Gwen or Sam could do about it. The hunters couldn’t protect the innocent and Molek glanced at Gwen and Sam several times, enjoyment on her face. Molek lowered her face close to Lisa’s. Delight grew in Molek’s eyes. “You’re going to die alone here tonight, a bitter, manipulative whore who can’t keep a man. Truth hurts, doesn’t it, sweetpea? You couldn’t even keep an alcoholic wreck of an ex-hunter in your bed. Mmmm. Why is that?”

“Look at me, Lisa,” Gwen said around the gag, repeating it until Lisa’s head turned. “Look at me.”

Molek stabbed the knife into the altar and grabbed Lisa’s face with both hands. “No, you look at me, bitch!”

Hay filtered down from the loft above them. Gwen coughed at the dust.

“What the….” Molek released Lisa and rounded the end of the altar, tilting her head first to one side, then the other, listening. She looked confused. Could she hear anything over the storm?

The bales at the edge of the loft toppled forward.

~~~~~~~~~~

The barn was a large, two story structure. Jo and Ben came upon it from the side. Not decrepit, but certainly not new or taken care of. As Jo and Ben neared it, she saw that the paint was peeling. They circled the building from one side of the open door at one end to the other side. She didn’t worry too much about giving away their presence. The storm was in full swing now, the scent of rain growing deeper, the wind lashing at their clothes.

There was a secondary door, a small one near one corner opposite the large door, and all of the windows were painted black. The upper level had a door that was open, hay bales jammed right up to that opening, though Jo thought there was an opening between the bales.

Jo pressed herself to the side of the barn. They had to get a clear view of the inside and fast, except Jo wasn’t exactly in any condition to be the one doing it. Getting on the ground was easy enough, but slithering across it on her belly and moving fast wasn’t quite in her repertoire at present.

“Crapsticks,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“What do you want me to do,” Ben asked.

“Go low, as low as you can, on the ground. Get a view of what’s going on inside. Then get another one and tell me the layout.”

He did an impressive soldier’s crawl to the open doorway, coming back in seconds. “Mom and Gwen are on a table at the other end and Sam is tied to the post right there.” He pointed at the barn and elaborated a bit on position. He had a good eye and memory. “Three women, one called ‘Mia’.”

“Mia?” Mia Gwen’s birth mother? Oh great. Wonderful, she thought with a touch of sarcasm. And yet it made perfect sense given the details they already had.

Ducking back down, he returned to the door, but scurried back almost immediately. “Two women,” he corrected. “One just…had a fit or something.”

“Layout?”

“Jo, I’ve been in the barn before. I could walk through it in my sleep. Tommy and I….” He fidgeted, looking around.

“Right.” She could imagine what he and Tommy had done in the barn. “Right, but I haven’t. I need to know what you know about it. Quick.”

He didn’t argue, giving her a rough idea of what the barn looked like on the inside. “I have a plan, if you want to hear it,” he offered in a tentative voice.

Sounds of a fight reached them and she nodded. “Lay it on me.” Right now, anything would work. Her main plan was shoot the witches and rescue everyone in there, but if Ben had anything to add to it, terrific.

~~~~~~~~~~

One of the vehicles that belonged to Tommy’s mom was parked on the access road and Dean checked it. The hood was still warm. Jo and Ben hadn’t been here long. He returned to the Impala, opening the trunk and grabbing a gun. Where was the Colt? He’d thought Sam had packed it, but it didn’t appear to be there.

He hoped the witches hadn’t raised Molek yet, because he had no idea how to kill him.

With the main house appearing deserted, he followed the path around behind it towards the tree line to the barn. It was a genuine barn and not one those metal structures, an old two story of the sort found just about everywhere in the Midwest, spooky in the storm. In the flashes of lightning, he could make out two forms at one end. As he drew closer, he could see it was Jo and Ben.

Jo was crouched down and Ben was…climbing onto her back?

“What the hell are you two doing,” Dean demanded in a hiss, coming up beside them. “That’s a good way to hurt yourself and the baby. Get off her.”

They started, Ben getting back onto his feet with a slight guilty expression and Jo straightening. Putting a hand on her back, she stretched. “You didn’t answer your phone,” she hissed back.

“You didn’t answer yours.”

“Mine was turned off.”

“I sort of got that when it kept going to voicemail. I thought something had happened to you, Jo.”

“First rule of sneaking up on someone is turn your phone off so they can’t hear you when it inevitably rings, because it always rings, Dean. Always. It’s like Murphy’s Law of hunting. Yours went to voicemail, too. Where were you?”

“I got picked up by a delightful, very large and witchy cop who’s now dead.”

“You kill him,” Ben asked in a distracted tone, his hands touching the barn wall like he was looking for something.

“No. A spell did.” He jerked his chin up to indicate the building. “Tell me. What have we got?”

“Gwen and Lisa on the altar on the other side of this wall. Heads are turned west, feet east.” Jo pointed, illustrating, her voice urgent. “Four support posts, two on either end. Sam is tied to the one at the southeast, Ben says it looks like some kind of wire. Mia, our lovely head witch, is all over in there. There were two helpers, but it sounded like one at least bit the dust, maybe the other one too. They were fighting.”

“Wait, Mia? As in Gwen’s real mother Mia?”

“I think so. Ben heard the name.”

“Oh, son of a bitch.” Mia had disappeared, that was part of what they knew from Patricia’s diary. They’d suspected Mia had been killed, that her body simply hadn’t been found, but this made more sense. The witches hadn’t taken her and killed her because she _was_ the witch, the one Patricia had told Gwen about over and over. A witch who’d snuck in and gotten close. Probably the one who’d killed Gwen’s father too. “Mommy is a witch. _That_ won’t scar her.”

Jo nodded. “Ben was going to go up into the loft, push a bale or two onto Mia, then climb down and free Gwen and Lisa while I shoot Mia and the other woman -- if she’s alive -- and free Sam.”

“Sounds like a plan. Get her before she summons Molek.”

She pointed at Ben. “Mostly his plan. Only problem is that I can’t boost him up. Dean, mom says Molek is a demon, not a god and possibly insane as well.”

“That’s terrific. An insane demon. How did we get so lucky?” Dean considered the plan and nodded. “Okay, here’s what we’re --”

The ground shook a tiny bit and lightning flashed bright. Above their heads, the clouds were slowly turning, like a tornado waiting to shoot down. No way any of what just happened was good.

He crouched. “Foot now, Ben!”

Ben didn’t hesitate, Dean vaulting him upwards. He disappeared into the loft, a sprinkling of hay in his wake.

“Tell me you have the Colt, Jo.”

She held it up.

“God, I love you. Now here’s what you and I are going to do if that was Molek’s entrance.” Lowering his mouth to her ear, he sketched out a hasty plan that was rather like his usual plans. He’d go in, distract Molek, draw him away from the others, and give Jo time to aim and get off a killing shot. She was to stay out of view for as long as possible.

She nodded and gave him a quick kiss. “Ready.”

They hurried to the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had been working on his bonds for what felt like forever, gritting his teeth so hard as he did that his jaw began to ache. When he saw the slight movement in the loft, he pushed himself harder, and as the bale fell, the wire finally snapped. The bale fell, Ben’s face, then body appearing. Sam freed his wrists and got up, diving for Molek, intending on wrestling her and performing an exorcism. It was better to try it free than tied up. He wouldn’t be as helpless untied. He hoped. There was no devil’s trap or containment, but he’d just have to make it work until whoever was with Ben could get in the barn and complete the plan they had. He hoped they had a plan at least. He began to exorcise the demon while it was shrugging off the hay, speaking as quickly as he could, hoping he could get a chunk of the way through it or at least get it out of Mia.

Ben jumped down from the loft, hurrying to the altar, a knife in one hand. He reached for the rope at Lisa’s wrists, started to saw through it.

Molek screamed, like the sound of a lion, and flung her arms out.

Sam felt himself fly through the air and hit the wall behind the post he’d been tied to, the words he’d been about to say stuck in his throat as all air seemed to leave him. He couldn’t draw in a breath, black spots quickly starting to dance across his vision. Across the room, he saw Ben in the same position.

And then Dean stepped into the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was time to act whether he was ready or not. Dean forced a cocky grin and assumed the planned position.

Molek stood with her arms spread, hands up. She had Sam and Ben both pinned, Sam to Dean’s right and Ben across the barn behind the altar. Gwen and Lisa were on the altar as Jo had said and there were two female bodies on the dirt floor. The first was to his left, the second far on the right.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said in a nonchalant tone.

The body Molek was in couldn’t be anyone but Gwen’s birth mother. The resemblance was too striking. The hair, the build, the facial features. If she’d kept herself young and stood beside Gwen, Dean wasn’t sure they’d be able to tell the difference without close study.

The demon was panting, annoyed, hair a wild tangle and teeth bared, eyes wide. She gave off an animal vibe, turning slightly to face him. “I stand corrected, Sam. Your brother _is_ here. And he’s got a toy with him.”

He took the shot. Molek was there and then gone and there again, the bullet missing her to ding the edge of the altar at Gwen and Lisa’s feet. Damn, she moved fast! Gwen turned her head and stared at him, pausing in her own attempts to free herself. He read the ‘are you trying to kill me?’ in her gaze.

Molek heaved a sigh and shook her head. “You can’t hurt me with that piddly little thing, even if you’re fast enough to hit me.”

“My other gun can.”

Not yet. Jo couldn’t shoot yet, not without endangering Gwen, Lisa, and Ben. They were all potentially in the way. He needed to draw Molek closer and that he didn’t really want to do. There was a ton of crazy swimming in her strange looking eyes and crazy and demon weren’t two words he wanted to put together. Meg was crazy, but Molek? A whole different level of nutso.

Molek let Ben drop and tossed Dean against the wall by the large door, a mirror position to Sam. With a flick of her wrist, she sent them sliding upwards, heads smacking the loft above. She giggled. “Ooh, oops! Did I hurt your widdle noggins boys?”

“Crazy demon.” She _would_ use baby talk.

“I like you. You’re feisty. Now where’s that other gun you were going to…shoot me with?”

Her coy tone brought a surging of bile up his throat.

“You know, killing isn’t the only thing I haven’t done in thousands of years.” Her tongue flicked out like a snake’s tongue. “When I was on earth last, I was a god, with priests and priestesses to bring children to me…and their parents. So many pleasures available to me in an earthly body and I can’t decide where to begin. I’ve missed them all, especially the tearing of human flesh under my teeth and the taste of blood. The cries of agony are pure ecstasy.” She ran her teeth along her lower lip. “I’ve changed my mind, Sam,” she called out. “I want your brother instead.” Her gaze slid down him and back up as she sidled close, the move taking all of their people from the line of fire. “I’ll use you to satisfy my cravings and then the real fun can begin. I can’t wait to get back to work.”

Dean laughed, though he admitted to himself that it did sound a tad desperate.

Molek frowned. “What are you laughing at?”

“You.”

“Me?” She took one more step closer. He could see that the whites of her eyes were a weird mottled red and yellow.

“Yeah, you, you psychotic bitch. You might be dangerous in hell, you may be crazy in hell, but honey, right here and now you’re dumber than a lower level black eyes. _Now_ ,” he yelled.

Jo stepped into the open doorway.

Molek turned her head.

~~~~~~~~~~

How could everything _not_ be starting to go south? Jo got as low as she could and took a quick glance around the door. Damn it! She gripped the Colt. If she missed…. Gwen, Lisa, and Ben were all in the way if the shot went haywire, not to mention she was going to have one chance. If she missed, it was Molek’s show right to the end of all of their lives -- which wouldn’t be much longer.

Focus, she told herself. You can do this. You can totally take out this demon.

She was nauseated, her stomach feeling like she was about to throw up everything she’d eaten for the past week and the baby was kicking in a way that was making her think she was going to have to pee very soon.

Concentrate. She was going to have to concentrate and aim in a single second. It wasn’t a case of turn and just shoot, she would have to aim. It had to be a killing shot to work.

She slid back up to stand and took a deep, calming breath.

Molek’s voice was closer, a change of position.

She could see her now, a bit of her anyway, standing close to Dean, and prayed the demon wouldn’t see her until the shot was made.

The signal came. Her own breaths were loud in her ears, blocking out the sounds of the storm, her temples throbbing with tension.

Jo stepped into the doorway where Dean had been, her legs spread for balance, took aim as fast as she could, and fired.

The rain that had been threatening for hours began to fall.


	41. Chapter 41

To Jo’s surprise and great relief, her aim was true and Molek had time to do little more than give her a shove that pushed Jo against the door before the bullet hit. A hole opened up in Molek’s forehead. The bullet worked it’s own sort of magic and with another shaking of the earth, the crack that had released Molek closed, Mia’s body dropped to the ground. Sam and Dean also dropped, hard. She heard Sam coughing and Dean groaning.

Sometimes, it was the simplest of plans that did the job. Why make things difficult?

Jo turned and, for the first time in a very long time, was physically sick from a job. She heaved the contents of her stomach onto the grass right outside the door. The rain felt good against her skin and she stood there a moment, bent over, waiting in case more came up. It was the tension from making the shot, she decided, and that ultimate relief that she’d actually done it.

I did it. I killed Molek. She’s gone and Mia with her.

Her shoulders relaxed, exhaustion slipping over her in a rush. She put a hand against the barn to steady herself.

Dean touched her back, his hand rubbing, gentle. “Jo? You okay?”

“Yeah, just a little upset stomach. Go check on Ben and get Lisa untied, I’ll be right in.”

She went into the barn slowly, leaning against the door, her legs shaking a little. Maybe she should sit.

She did, watching Dean go from Ben, then Lisa while Sam undid Gwen’s bonds. Jo felt mildly detached from the scene. Dean gave Lisa a once-over as he cut the rope holding her. Jo knew that his sharp gaze would take in everything, note if she really needed a doctor. If she did, they’d get her to one.

His perusal lasted only a few seconds and in that time she saw Lisa smile and sit, reaching for him, her hands stretching out and making a grab for his shirt. It was the sort of move a woman made to drag a man against her and kiss him. Jo had done it herself a few times. Surprise and confusion played about Lisa’s face when Dean turned away and strode back to Jo instead of letting himself be pulled into her embrace. The look of surprise on her face was almost comical, but Jo didn’t laugh. She didn’t giggle because of what she saw underlying that expression as moments passed by.

Lisa didn’t like that Dean rejected her. She didn’t like that he wasn’t single and couldn’t be pulled back to her for any length of time. Jo saw anger, jealousy, and an incredulity mingled together before Lisa masked it. If Lisa hadn’t considered Jo an enemy before, she certainly did now. It was plain there in her expression. A part of Jo wondered what was going on in Lisa’s mind and how she was going to behave while the rest of her frankly didn’t care. Now that she’d met the woman, and interacted with her, Dean’s past with Lisa no longer felt the least bit threatening. There was nothing to feel threatened _about_. 

Jo felt a sharp pang of relief that it was all over.

The civilian was saved. They could go home and she was more than ready to.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was over.

Dean went to Sam first, found him bruised and battered, but blessedly alive, then went to Jo. She was okay as well, entreating him to check Ben and get Lisa untied before coming back to her. He did, bending over Ben, noting that he was breathing and beginning to stir. He was going to hurt later from getting thrown against the wall, but he wasn’t seriously injured. Lastly, he went to Lisa, cutting her bonds, looking her over. The wound on her arm was superficial and nothing to worry about. A little antibiotic ointment and she might not even have much of a scar. Maybe the bump on her forehead could have left a concussion, though she didn’t look like it. Her gaze was clear and it appeared that she wasn’t even very shook up. Perhaps shock was starting to set in.

He cast a glance to Gwen and Sam. Gwen would see to her and give a far more decisive diagnosis than he could, he knew she would. It was how she worked. She was very good with doctoring.

In less than a minute, he’d finished his assessment of Lisa and turned back to Jo, pushing forward past the tugging on his shirt and returning to her. She was sitting by the wall, hands on her stomach. “You’re okay,” he asked, helping her up and taking her in his arms.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” Jo said. “She didn’t have time to toss me like a rag doll before she died.”

“You’re sure? We’ll get Cas down here, have him check you out and --”

“Dean, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll have to pee within the next fifteen minutes, but that’s just normal these days.”

“What’s with the hands on your stomach then?”

“Oh, junior’s just kicking and it’s a little uncomfortable.”

He placed his hand flat on her stomach. “His first real encounter with a demon.”

“Probably not his last.”

“Probably,” he acknowledged. Some day, they were going to have to teach their child how to protect himself or herself. It was inevitable and wholly necessary because he and Jo were both hunters. They would have to teach their child everything they knew and he was starting to accept that. Wasn’t that part of raising a child? Teaching him or her how to be safe in the world? He’d do anything he could to keep his child safe and if that meant imparting the knowledge he had on the things of the world and how to counter them, then so be it.

She looked over at Lisa. “She okay? Need a doctor?”

“Doctor Gwen maybe. Not the E.R. I don’t think.”

“How about Ben?”

He glanced in Ben’s direction. Lisa had moved to him and was hugging him. “He’ll be fine.”

“Good. He’s quite a kid, Dean. He stepped up when he had to.” She leaned against him, rested her head against his chest. “We should get them home, finish things here.”

Gwen went to Lisa and Ben. In a few minutes, she gave her assessment of the situation. Dean was a little surprised to hear her say they needed to sit with them, though he wasn’t surprised awhile later at the cars, when Gwen tugged him aside for a quick chat. She knew what needed to be done -- on all fronts.

She and Sam would take care of the scene. Dean would take care of Lisa and Ben. Her meaning was clear really. He needed to seek the closure he’d never fully had with Lisa and actively shut that chapter of his life. For his own sake, for Jo’s, and for their future.

Dean needed to face those things he’d not let himself face. He needed to take a long look at how Lisa had behaved towards him and towards Sam and all the things he should have said needed to be said.

It was time.

He thought he might even be ready. 

~~~~~~~~~~

He cut the bonds holding her while Sam cut Gwen’s. Dean, her hero. Her knight without the armor, saving her again. Lisa sat up, smiling, reaching for Dean in thanks, her fingers grazing his t-shirt, pinching the barest bit of fabric. He moved away from her, not acknowledging her intent to thank him, and crouched down by Jo, his hands helping her up.

Lisa sat on the altar and stared at the two of them, her thoughts jumbled, mind numb, slowly making a transition between terror that was draining, relief that it was done, and confusion at Dean’s current actions.

What had happened? She’d heard Dean’s voice, heard him talking to the…the…the _crazy_ _person_ , and then a second gunshot. She’d only dared to open her eyes when he’d cut her bonds, reaching for him because she needed…. She’d wanted the warm, strong reassurance of his arms around her and instead of that, he’d left her with little more than a glance and, in her opinion, certainly not a thorough assessment of her health. He’d left her on the altar to go to Jo, who hadn’t even been in danger. She hadn’t been the one that nut was going to stab. Lisa was the one who needed him, not _her_. Why did he go to _her_?

Her mind struggled to close the door on the night’s happenings. If she didn’t think about them, they never happened. She was never taken from her bed, her house. She was never tied up, taunted by…. Never happened. Never….

Dean’s expression was tender, the hand he laid on Jo’s stomach possessive.

Why was Dean acting that way over Sam’s wife? Why was he concerned about her, holding her….

Beside her, Sam grabbed Gwen to him, his arms around her, face burying in her neck. “You’re alive,” he murmured, over and over. Lisa didn’t hear Gwen’s reply, but whatever it was prompted Sam to kiss her with an enthusiasm that bespoke his feelings rather well.

The woman beside her, Gwen, was the one Sam loved, not….

Lisa gasped, the pieces of her interactions with Sam and Jo clicking into place. Jo’s vehement dislike and general tone. How insistent she’d been that Dean was happy. Sam’s solicitous respect for Jo. The gentle tone, the caring touches to her back, arms, and shoulders.

Jo and Sam weren’t married.

It was Dean Jo was married to, the father of her child, and Sam’s respect hadn’t been concern for his own wife, but rather for his _brother’s_ wife. Dean was married. _Married_.

Her cheeks flamed with heat and Lisa felt like she’d been punched in the stomach, nausea pooling inside her. There in her mind, if she could bear to admit it to herself, had been the tiny hope that Dean would give up hunting for good, retire, and return to her. Even after she’d moved on, she’d hoped he wouldn’t. That he’d cherish her as his future. His apple pie life. She’d hoped that she’d be the woman he’d never forget. She’d daydreamed that some day, even if she was married to someone else, he’d come to her and declare that she was the one he’d always wanted and he’d remember her until the day he died. She’d wanted him to want her forever, even when she became unattainable.

She stared down at her wrists, rubbed slowly at the red raw skin.

But he _had_ moved on. He’d gotten married, started a family. How was that possible when he was still a hunter? What kind of woman would choose that life for herself and her future? The waiting around for him to come home? The constant wonder if he was really faithful? After all, Dean had always been the sort of guy that women liked. Him being at Sam’s beck and call? What kind of woman was okay with that and with the rest of her life being a non-stop horror ride?

The hunting was okay on occasion. She hadn’t minded him going out on _a_ job, but constant? No way. It was too much. He’d saved the world once. Couldn’t someone else do it?

She turned her attention to Jo, jealousy that was sharp and bitter rising up inside her as she watched Dean caress her face and hold her against him. He was saying something about their baby.

Maybe Jo had him now, but had she been the one he’d warned when whatever big fight that had been going on had threatened the entire world? No. Had it been Jo he’d gone to when Sam had selfishly let Dean believe he was dead for a year? No. It had been Lisa he’d gone to, the first one he’d thought of then. It had been her and whatever Jo thought, Lisa had been first. That would never change.

It was a small consolation that somewhat soothed her battered pride.

She slid off the altar, uncomfortable with all of them right now. Sam was holding Gwen, Dean was holding Jo, and there was no one to hold her. They all appeared to have forgotten she was even there.

A chill breeze swept the barn, stirring the hay on the floor and making Lisa shiver. The storm brought a cold front with it.

Slowly, with as much dignity as she could, Lisa picked her way to where Ben was waking up. She knelt, touching his brow with a hand. “Ben?”

“Mom?” His eyes opened and he sat in a swift movement, grabbing on to her and holding her tightly. “I thought you were going to die!”

“I’m very much alive.”

She sat on the barn floor, holding her son, trying to block out the two couples across from her, but it wasn’t possible. Her attention kept straying to them.

Gwen loosed herself from Sam and came to her, kneeling. “Let me see your arm.”

“It’s a scratch,” Lisa replied, then held out her arm as Gwen had ordered. Her touch was gentle and very much like a doctor’s.

“I think mine was cut deeper,” she determined. “Little more than a scratch, not deep enough for stitches. We were lucky. She could have cut deep enough we’d be dead by now. Clean it really well and keep antibiotic ointment on it. I’d get a blood test, have them test for everything under the sun. Who knows what was on that knife, right? Keep an eye on it. If it starts looking strange, go to your doctor.” She raised a hand, touching the spot on Lisa’s head. “Quite a goose egg you’ve got raising. How many fingers am I holding up?” She went through the drill of checking for a concussion, question after question, and finally, Gwen looked at Ben. “How about you? You hit that wall pretty hard and passed out when she released you.”

“My head hurts a little,” he admitted.

“Understandable.”

“She made it hard to breathe, Gwen. I couldn’t breathe.”

“That’s probably why you passed out, but humor me, okay?” She held up her hand. “How many fingers?” When she was done, she cupped his shoulder with her palm a moment. “Good. I need you both to stand.”

Sam crouched beside her as Dean and Jo came towards them, arms about each other. He stretched out a hand. “Let’s get both of you up, okay?” 

Lisa averted her face, trying not to flinch at the warm hand Sam placed on her bare arm. She supposed it hadn’t been him that had grabbed her at the house, but she couldn’t seem to forget that whatever it had been had looked just like him. 

Whatever it had been…. 

No, didn’t happen. Nothing happened.

She got to her feet, keeping Ben close, and stepping back from Sam. Lisa put herself just out of his reach.

Gwen stood as well. “Take a few steps for me?” They complied and Gwen nodded. “Okay. Good.” She looked at Dean and Jo. “We need to stay with them for a few hours. I don’t think they’re concussed, but we should watch both them just in case. It was pretty intense up here where Lisa and I were and we should give her some support, watch for signs of shock.”

She meant mental and emotional support for the way the _person_ had taunted her didn’t she? Lisa licked her lips, closing her eyes for a moment as tears welled up. Not a person. A _demon_. A demon had teased her with the threat of killing her and Gwen acted like it didn’t even bother her. How? How did she do it? It occurred to her that Gwen must be the other hunter Sam had mentioned. Was that how she did it then? Was she just that desensitized to the horror? “I have friends we can call,” Lisa said. Her voice sounded far away to her ears and she blinked fast to clear the tears.

“Sure.” Gwen nodded. “You mind telling them what happened, because you know there’ll be questions. They’ll take one look at you and ask questions, press for answers, want to know every little detail and honestly, do you want them to know? You want to explain how you ended up in a barn where they’ll find three dead bodies probably in the next few days?”

She tightened her arms around Ben. For the first time in months, he didn’t pull away, accepting the embrace, holding her tighter. “I wouldn’t…want to tell them.” There would be evidence she’d been there somewhere. Her blood that had been spilled or something. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d been mixed up in…this. But how could she take care of it? Someone would find out.

“Good.” Gwen smiled. “We’ll spend the rest of the night watching over you and be off sometime tomorrow.”

It occurred to Lisa that she’d been manipulated into doing exactly what Gwen wanted and Gwen wasn’t the least ashamed of it. In fact, she dared Lisa to object, her stare cool and business-like. She nodded anyway and looked at Dean, ignoring Jo. “Dean. Thank you.”

He shook his head. “No, it was all Jo. She was the one actually killed Molek.”

“It was a team effort,” Jo corrected. “You distracted him so I could get a killing shot.”

“True.” He drew Jo closer. “You took the shot, though.”

“And what a good shot it was,” Gwen said, aiming two fingers at an imaginary target and pretending to shoot. “Damn girl. You took like one second to aim. Color me impressed with your skills.”

“Same skills you have,” Jo replied, staring at Lisa. While she expected to see triumph in her eyes, or something along those lines, all Lisa saw was fatigue. “All part of the job.”

It felt almost insulting that there _wasn’t_ any triumph there. “Thanks,” Lisa told her and turned her face against Ben. She wanted this night to end so she could forget it had ever happened.

~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s arms were a welcome support about Gwen and she allowed herself only a moment of relaxation, pressing her face into his neck. A small sob left her before she was able to push it back down.

She looked at Lisa, saw the beginnings of shock and denial, then looked at Dean and Jo. As much as Dean would like to leave without having the discussion he needed with Lisa, he needed to have that talk. There were things that had been left unsaid between the two and those things would haunt Dean for the rest of his life if he didn’t face them. Gwen couldn’t make him do it, but she could give him the opportunity.

As quickly as the rain had begun, it stopped. The path to the barn was muddy and waterlogged. They were going to have to walk. No way either car wouldn’t get stuck in that mud if they tried to bring them back here. She looked at Lisa. By the time they reached the cars, her feet were going to be cut, bruised, and muddy more than they already were. She didn’t need that along with everything else and Gwen made a quick decision, glancing up at Sam beside her. “Would you mind carrying Lisa down the lane? Her feet are going to be shredded by the time we get to the cars.” He was strong enough to do it.

“Not at all.” He didn’t want to she saw, but would do it because Gwen asked. He held out his hands for Lisa to take.

Instead, Lisa backed up a few steps, her answer said in Gwen’s direction. “No, no I can walk. It’s okay.”

“I have shoes on, you don’t,” Sam told her, but she was firm. She’d rather hurt her feet than let Sam carry her. “You’re sure?”

“I’d rather walk.” Her tone could easily be translated into ‘I’d rather be boiled in oil than let you touch me in any way.’.

Sam lips tightened and he turned his back on Lisa. Gwen understood his frustration and disgust. If she didn’t have a responsibility here, she’d rather leave Lisa to find her own way home. Gwen bet if Lisa had to walk all the way back barefoot, she’d be a bit more agreeable about accepting Sam’s help.

She fell into step beside Sam, following Dean and Jo, letting Ben guide his mother. 

When they reached the vehicles, Gwen caught Dean’s arm, tugging him away a few steps to speak with him in relative privacy.

“Dean, you and Jo take Lisa and Ben home. Sam and I will do some damage control, pack at the motel, check out, and meet you at Lisa’s in a couple hours.”

“Damage control?”

“The sort that needs to be done for Lisa to continue to live here in Battle Creek” She was already planning where to start the fire, how to stack the bodies, and how to take care of this matter in a way that would keep Lisa safe from scrutiny. She knew Sam and Dean didn’t usually clean up anything, preferring to head out before anyone noticed that something had happened. Or as close to that as possible. But she’d been taught what to do in the case they needed to protect someone and Lisa and Ben needed this final protection. They needed the end and one where they wouldn’t be dragged into an investigation.

“Gwen?”

“Mia said the Campbells weren’t inclined to take people in, that they burned bridges rather than try to save those bridges. It’s true. It’s better not to most times, keeps us in the game and out of jail. Sometimes we do save those bridges, but sometimes, Dean…. The only way to save a bridge completely is to burn it.” She slanted a pointed glance towards Lisa and Ben. “You and only you need to fully burn your bridge. It’s time and you know it. Sam and I’ll take care of this, you take care of that.”

It took a moment for him to understand her meaning. She could see the sadness and resolution in his eyes. He was ready now to do whatever it took. “I know. I know, Gwen. I will.” He gestured at the barn. “Make sure you get everything, okay?”

“We will.” She’d keep moving as long as she could, because if she stopped to think for one second, she was going to break down and this wasn’t the time for that. Later, she’d let herself process what had happened, but for now, she’d push forward.

She and Sam watched Jo spread a blanket out on the backseat, Ben settling Lisa on the seat and putting another blanket around her. Within five minutes, Gwen and Sam were alone and back at the barn, moving bodies and deciding just what they were going to do.

Sam bent and retrieved the journal from where Mia had tossed it. “You want this?” He waved it a little. “Could clear up a few final details.”

“I probably should keep it. The rest are undoubtedly in those boxes we brought back from the compound.”

“I can hold on to it for you until we get back.”

She stared at it a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Keep it for me.”

“So how are we going to take care of this? Fire?”

“I think so. The rain will keep it from spreading to the woods and the house, but with the bales the inside’ll catch quickly. What do you think?”

“I think some farmer is gonna be pissed.”

“Hope he’s insured.”

The fire didn’t take long to set or take the structure. Gwen thought that all that was going to be left was a shell. Good. Let it all burn.

A numbness took hold of her and it felt like she was an observer outside her body instead of in it. She let Sam guide her to the car and into the motel room once they reached the motel. Gwen sat on the edge of one bed, replaying the events of the past hours in her head. Her mother, the demon, the information she’d learned. If not for the Campbell family she would have either died as a sacrifice to Molek or been raised in Mia’s image, a witch dedicated to pure evil. If not for Neal Campbell saving her life and raising her as his own, her life would have been very different. After several minutes, she realized Sam had crouched down before her and was talking to her. She blinked and shook her head. “What? I didn’t --”

“Are you okay?”

She gave a helpless shrug. “My birth mother tried to kill me. She --” Tears welled up and Gwen couldn’t hold back the sobs that came in their wake, letting Sam draw her against him. He held her gently, as though she was fragile and might break, one hand sweeping along her back, his voice in her ear, murmuring soothing words.

She cried for what had happened tonight and for the hopes she’d had about her birth parents. Gwen cried because the truth hurt too much not to.

~~~~~~~~~

Ben didn’t want to acknowledge that he’d seen his mom not being very nice to Jo. He sat down on a chair across from Jo. He could hear the water running upstairs as his mom took a shower. She’d been in there for over half an hour already. He wondered if she was going to stay in there until all the hot water was gone and decided he couldn’t blame her if she did. She’d been shivering by the time they’d gotten inside the house. The hot water would help her to warm up.

Maybe he should make some coffee? Or cocoa? His mom still made cocoa for him whenever he was cold. Would she like that? Would tea be better? He thought they had some teabags somewhere in the pantry. Maybe he’d wait and see what Dean said. He didn’t want to disturb Jo with such a question. She looked like she was about ready to nod off.

He heard the sound of the vacuum as Dean finished cleaning up the shape shifter skin. Dean refused to let Ben help and, for once, Ben didn’t feel like he should press him on it. He didn’t mind Dean taking care of it without him. In fact, he sort of preferred not to have anything to do with it.

Jo gave him a weak smile, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back. Dirt still streaked her face. When they’d gotten back to the house, Dean had wiped a cloth across it, but he’d missed a smudge. In less than a minute, she was asleep. Ben wondered if all the running around had been hard on her and the baby.

His stare fell to her stomach and he hoped she was okay. He didn’t think he’d ever forget how she’d gone to try to save his mom. She’d put herself in danger to save her.

It had been something of a shock then to see his mom trying very hard not to acknowledge Jo’s presence. Except for that moment back at the barn, she wouldn’t look at Jo, speak to her directly, or answer her when Jo spoke. She was being rude in a way that would have gotten him grounded without any electronic amusements for months. Why? Jo had saved her life. She’d been nice and _was_ nice. So why….?

He attempted to think it out like a logic problem. How would he feel if Tommy left and showed up later with a husband? The husband part he couldn’t wrap his mind around, so he amended it to ‘boyfriend’ instead. Someone who looked to fit in Tommy’s life better than he ever had. Someone who just seemed to click perfectly.

The answer to that was simple. He’d be jealous. He’d hate seeing another guy there; seeing how right the two looked; seeing how things might have been different if he himself had been a little different. It’d be particularly galling if that guy saved his life.

When he thought he understood his mom’s mindset at present better, he got up and placed a light blanket over Jo, tucking it a little about her and trying not to wake her. Ben turned to return to his chair and saw Dean leaning against the wall watching him. He looked tired, a question in his eyes that he didn’t actually ask. Ben shrugged. “I like Jo,” he said simply.

Dean’s smile was weak, like Jo’s had been, and he shoved off the wall, walking towards Ben. As he approached, Ben could see the exhaustion clinging to him. “I’m glad. She likes you, too. Thinks you’re quite a kid.” He stepped past Ben and sat beside Jo, putting an arm around her and gently easing her to him. She made a noise of contentment low in her throat and shifted position, turning in his embrace and returning to sleep. “Floor in your room is clean.”

“Thanks.” He motioned to the stairs. “I’m gonna go up for awhile.”

With a nod, Dean turned his face into Jo’s hair.

Dean put his other arm around her, and though he whispered, it was still loud enough for Ben to hear him tell Jo that he loved her.

The words didn’t make Ben cringe or feel anything except a burst of happiness that Dean had a family that loved him. A wife who would save the life of an old girlfriend rather than let her be killed; who would take care of that girlfriend’s son without malice towards him and even try to keep him away from the danger. A brother who would do the same. And Gwen, also that way. His family cared and they loved Dean just as much as Ben had. He’d seen the emotional bonds, the love and affection, between all of them.

Jo had grown up in the life and was a part of it from her childhood, like Gwen. Ben couldn’t imagine either woman living the life he and his mom had. He couldn’t imagine them doing carpools, having lunch with friends and going shopping, or going to average jobs. He couldn’t imagine them being ordinary.

While they weren’t superheroes, hunters _were_ heroes and he knew enough about graphic novel superheroes to know that a parallel could definitely be drawn here. Hunters were the superheroes of the real world. It took a certain type of person to make the sacrifices necessary to continue to be a hunter and he’d met four of them. Dean, Sam, Jo, and Gwen. They were all above ordinary, willing to do whatever they had to to fight the good fight. 

He didn’t have the makings to be one of them. He’d considered those things Gwen had said and come to that conclusion. He couldn’t be a hunter because he didn’t have the strength to let go. Dean had once told Ben that he wasn’t like Dean; he had other options available to him and it was true. Had Dean seen that Ben didn’t have the qualities that made a hunter? Maybe. Maybe it had just been about protecting him. Either way, Ben didn’t have what it took.

He found he didn’t care to be a hunter as much as he once had. While it was a good profession, in the end, it wasn’t for him. 

Sam and Dean were out there. Jo and Gwen were out there. Nameless others were out there. They lived the life, died in the life, and along the way, they sometimes saved the whole damn world.

He thought he might finally understand the truth of hunting. It wasn’t glamorous or exciting. It was hard, dangerous, and sometimes boring. It required discipline and sacrifice. It called for giving up the things most people took for granted as normal and living outside of society. It meant a person’s entire life, not just a tiny piece. A hunter was one for life.

Smiling just a little, he headed up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Gwen sat at the kitchen table with Lisa, taking a last close look at the scratch on her arm and the bump on her brow.

“Up there,” Lisa began, her voice shaking and low, gaze studying her. “How were you not terrified?” She’d taken several long showers in the hours that had passed, her shivering easing a bit more with each one, and she wore jeans, a t-shirt and had a sweater sitting on the table, there to put on when Gwen was done.

Gwen put a bandage on the scratch, one spread liberally with antibiotic ointment. “It’s part of the job to remain calm and…I _was_ scared. I was sure we were going to die.”

“You didn’t look it.”

“I’ve been part of the hunting community a long time, Lisa. It’s sort of a necessity to desensitize yourself to some of it. The faint of heart and weak of stomach don’t last long. Can’t go out to slay Godzilla if you’re afraid of being stepped on.”

She’d looked uncomfortable for hours now, staring at Dean as though she couldn’t quite figure something out and repeatedly ignoring Sam and Jo with a rudeness that made Gwen want to punch her and yell at her to live in the real world. There was a look in her eyes, a decision she’d made to forget all of this. Maybe she’d managed to suppress some of it already.

But Gwen thought it wasn’t going to be quite that easy for her. “A bit of advice,” she said, closing the first aid kit.

“What?”

“Don’t bury this.” She looked around at the nice, neat house, with everything just so. “You’re going to have nightmares, nights you’ll wake up, certain it’s happening all over again. I guarantee those nightmares aren’t going to be easy to endure. You may even have them nightly for awhile. You might not feel at ease in this house anymore. Change the locks, paint, move the furniture around, make it seem like a different place. It’s normal though. All of that, the nightmares, the feelings, it’s normal. What happened was --”

“In the past. Over. Done.”

Gwen frowned. Unbelievable. “The memory of this isn’t going to go away, Lisa. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen. It did happen. You were abducted from your home, held captive, and nearly murdered. It _was_ a last minute rescue. Doesn’t matter if you like it or not, you have to face this. Go get counseling, talk to Ben’s dad, _something_.”

Her glance fell to the table. “Do you still face things? Will you go to counseling?”

Honestly? No. She knew she could talk to Jo, Ellen, and Sam. Even Dean would listen if she really wanted to talk to him about it. Later today, when they stopped for the night, she planned to curl up with Sam again, let the warmth of his embrace soothe her. She’d talk to him, get it all out in uncontrollable sobs, then lather, rinse and repeat until it didn’t hurt as much anymore.

That was her world. She knew to expect the breakdown that was coming, accepted that it was going to happen. If she was Lisa, she’d go to counseling so fast heads would spin. She’d go to try to regain the sense of having an ordinary life. But she wasn’t Lisa and she could see the woman was going to ignore her advice and pretend it had never happened. She was going to will herself back to the point where Jo and Sam had come to see her, perhaps even before. She was going to ignore everything that had happened.

Gwen vaguely remembered Dean once saying something about that being Lisa’s defense mechanism. She ignored whatever she didn’t want to see or deal with.

“I would,” she lied.

Lisa’s attention returned to her. “If I need help, I’ll get it.”

The lie was there in her eyes and voice and while Gwen could call her on it, Lisa had made up her mind. To her, suppressing it and ignoring it was infinitely better than working through the fears and knowledge involved. It was better than actively acknowledging that her life had once more intersected with supernatural creatures. Gwen felt very tired, not really up to getting someone else into a good place. She’d already done more than she usually did because of what Lisa had once been to Dean and only wanted to leave. She wanted to be away from this house and town and never see Battle Creek again.

Someone else was going to have to be the one to put Lisa back together. Maybe Ben’s dad could do it. Or someone yet to walk into Lisa’s life.

“Okay.” She nodded and got up. “Goodbye then.” Turning, she went to where Sam waited at the front door and went outside with him.

The storm had passed quickly, leaving sunshine and cooler temperatures in it’s wake. It had been all build up and bluster and not much in the way of damages. The sun was warm on her skin.

Sam put his arm around her as they walked to the car. “She okay?”

“Physically she’s fine, but that woman is far from stable mentally. She’s going to need counseling and I bet she won’t get it. I told her to.”

He opened the back door for her. “It’s up to her. You tried. She’s an adult. She can make her own mistakes. Lie down and get some rest. I suspect we’re going to be waiting for Jo and Dean for awhile.”

“You’re bossy today.”

“Rest,” he urged.

He didn’t have to say it again. Gwen stretched out and let herself drift into a half asleep state.


	42. Chapter 42

In the hours that passed, while on the receiving end of some old-fashioned silent treatment, Jo took a close look at Lisa from beneath a new state of ease with Dean’s past. She thought about what Dean had said regarding those months with Lisa, what Lisa herself had said, and the way Lisa was now behaving. She considered everything she knew about that past from all sides and tried to put it in context because the truth, she knew, did have two sides. Lisa had told Jo she only knew Dean’s side, so she studied it to understand.

From Dean’s perspective, he’d failed to make that relationship work and everything that had gone wrong with them had been his fault. He’d failed. He’d been the one who hadn’t been able to make it work. All his fault. He took the role of devil and assigned Lisa the role of saint, while still admitting to the realization that Lisa had manipulated him on occasion. Dean certainly wasn’t a saint. He could be moody and grouchy and a pain in the butt. He could get stuck in a rut that it took bombs to get him out of. 

But no one was a saint, not even Lisa. No one was perfect. It was hardly all his fault. He was taking blame for things that weren’t his to accept blame _for_.

From Lisa’s perspective, nothing she’d done had been wrong. In her view she’d done what was best for Dean and them, ignoring dangerous behaviors -- like the drinking -- and manipulating him in ways she thought would help him settle down and be the man she wanted. She’d tried very hard to make the perfect life. Then when Sam had returned, she’d tried to hold on to Dean all the tighter, using more manipulation, giving off signals that couldn’t have been more mixed if she’d actively tried.

Jo considered all of those things Dean had laid out long ago, remembering how his voice had dropped at times to a pain filled whisper.

She thought the manipulation went far deeper than he understood. It took a talented bit of manipulation to convince a man that the reason the relationship failed was him and it was all on his head. Granted, Dean felt a deep responsibility towards those he cared about. Lisa would have known that and he would have felt a responsibility anyway for the outcome. However, it wouldn’t have been difficult to push his buttons and ram it home in his head that he was screwed up. 

Then there was the selfishness.

In her opinion, Lisa was selfish. She’d stood by and let Dean suffer in his grief, yet as long as she’d been happy it was okay. She’d let him descend into an alcoholic haze, but she was happy so it was fine. She’d ignored his need to have Sam at his side and attempted to mold him into a man he wasn’t. She’d tried to change the things she didn’t like about him. That was pure selfishness right there and Jo had a few things to say about manipulative, selfish women. 

Jo narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. 

Lisa was honestly upset about the previous night and definitely not wanting to face that it had happened. Obvious and understandable. All of them, even Ben, could see it. She was feeling the strain of the night. She was also hurt and angry with Dean for rejecting her at the barn, and probably a little embarrassed to realize Jo was his wife. It wasn’t exactly a detail Jo or Sam had bothered to share that day they’d seen her and the logical conclusion would have been that Jo and Sam were married and the baby was his. Jo didn’t blame her for that or the possible embarrassment. She didn’t even really blame her for feeling rejected and angry.

What was beginning to tick her off however, was the act Lisa was putting on for Dean. She was pretending for him, pretending that she was okay. She wasn’t letting him see anything but a calm mask that slipped when he wasn’t looking at her and one thing became crystal clear to Jo.

No matter what Lisa might claim, she wasn’t over Dean, not by a long shot. She still wanted him and if she thought she could manipulate him away from Jo, she would. Maybe not to have him come back to her, but to get back at Jo for being his wife. If she thought she could cause a problem between Jo and Dean before they left, she would and without one hesitation. 

Jo waited until Dean went upstairs to say goodbye to Ben, then looked at Lisa, who was still ignoring her, though with less of a shell-shocked expression than she’d had. “So…. Lisa. Let’s be honest here, woman to woman, wife to ex. Drop the pretense and the bullshit and lay it all out so we understand each other.” 

Lisa’s gaze flicked to her, finally focusing on her. “Let’s.” She glanced up the stairs, the calm mask she’d been cultivating dropping in a second. Gone was everything but the enemy Jo knew she’d made just by being Dean’s wife, an enemy assessing just what she could get away with before Dean came back down and deciding the best way to manipulate things to her advantage. 

In a blink, she’d shoved everything else back behind her anger and jealousy, her very real distress included, and that, Jo knew, was an impressive talent all itself. It meant that Lisa could very well talk herself into believing none of the previous night had happened. She really could ignore it all, like she’d ignored Dean’s issues the entire time he’d been with her. She could compartmentalize in her mind, stuffing bits here and there, willy-nilly, until everything was a neat and tidy in her head as it was in her house. In her head, she’d be blame-free of everything. 

But how long before it all busted loose? How long before those things she tried to ignore broke out? Some day it was going to happen and when that happened it wasn’t going to be pretty. Someone was going to have to put her back together. Jo didn’t care really. It wasn’t going to be any of them helping her.

Lisa stepped towards the front door. “Not here. Not in the house. The front porch would be better.”

“Why? So the neighbors can hear, but Dean can’t?”

Her laugh was caustic and she opened the door, gesturing to the porch. “After you.”

“Oh no, after you.”

“You think I’ll push you off the porch? You really think I’m that petty?” The words were said sweetly.

That jealous maybe. Jo didn’t turn her back, stepping out while keeping her attention on Lisa. “Best not to take chances, right? In your _shocked_ state you might do something you’ll regret later.”

Lisa closed the door. “Okay then. Let’s be honest.”

“It is the best policy.” Jo slanted a quick glance at the Impala. Sam slid off the trunk and turned to watch them. “First off, let me state that you’re good. I’ve seen some good snow jobs in my day but acting like you’re pulling off today is a talent. It must have been exhausting being sweetness and light for months when Dean was with you and sell that image to him daily. When did you have a chance to be the full you? To yell and scream and be all of the unpleasant bits we each have inside us? You couldn’t have ever done that because Dean’s been making excuses for the way you treated him for months. You’ve got him totally convinced it was all him with the problem. You’re a saint, Lisa.”

“It got me what I wanted,” she shrugged, “and I wasn’t always sweetness. That’d be unconvincing. We had arguments. We fought.”

“But I’m willing to bet you never said the things you really wanted to.”

“Perhaps. I can watch my tongue. I’m a very nice person, Jo.”

“I’m sure you are when you want to be. What was it you wanted from him? A stud in bed?”

“He is, isn’t he? He’s marvelous.” She put her hands on her hips, her gaze flat and cool. “I got a father for Ben, a stud, as you put it, for me, someone to help with the house, the bills.”

“And a man to parade around, your reformed bad-boy. So what if he had some dings and scrapes? Paint over them and pretend they’re not there. Just don’t try to actually fix them.” Jo clapped her hands. “Very nice work on him. It takes a master manipulator to make a man like Dean think some of that was his idea. The golf? I applaud that. Was that an extra challenge for yourself, because something like bowling would have been easier and more average household to portray.”

“Dean is a big boy, Jo. He made his own decisions. I just…suggested things on occasion. He wanted to better himself. It was a part of that. Everything I did was to help him become normal. I stand by everything I said last time. I cared for Dean. I did. I gave him the life he needed --”

“No, you gave him what he daydreamed about. Sam gave him what he needed. Sam _was_ and _is_ what he needs.”

“And how twisted is that? A man should need his girlfriend, his wife. Not his brother. Doesn’t it bother you that you’re second to Sam? Dean would save Sam before he’d ever save you and that’s unnatural.”

“What do you know about their relationship? Their past, their childhoods? Anything? Until you know everything, sit down, and shut up about it. Like I said last time, you missed out on knowing Sam. It’s a privilege to be in this family.” She licked her lips. “So, you can ignore me, pretend I’m not here all you like, but it doesn’t change the fact that I _am_ here and I’m in Dean’s life, in his family. He chose to make me his wife and spend the rest of his life with me. I’m not going anywhere. It’s a fact. So whatever little fantasy you have going on in your head right now about him? Not gonna happen. Dean is out of your reach and no amount of manipulation is going to change that.”

“I don’t care. I’ve moved on.”

“You keep telling yourself that. See, I have a sort of talent in being able to read people sometimes and you’re far from moved on.” She studied her with a deliberate slowness that seemed to really piss Lisa off. “It’s there in your eyes, your voice, the way you hold yourself, the way you’ve been behaving, and most especially in the way you’ve been watching Dean since we got back to this house. I can see those wheels a-turnin’ in your mind, trying to figure out how you can make things the way you want them. If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be doing this stupid, childish pretending crap with me and Sam -- two people you wish didn’t exist.”

A flush colored her cheeks. “If anything, I’m disappointed to see the Dean’s taste in women has obviously slipped. His standards have gone subterranean.”

“If I’m subterranean, what would that have made you? The gutters in that level maybe?”

Lisa stepped very close to her. “I’m the normal one, Jo. I’m the one he turned to back when the last big fight ended. Where were you then? Not with him. I was the one he was thinking about. I was the one he wanted and I was the one who took him in and gave him a home. Where were you?”

“You don’t want to know where I was, sweetie. Things I went through would rip your sanity right from your pretty little head.”

“Truth is, Dean’s always going to remember me first. Me. You’re,” Lisa jabbed a finger against her chest, “just what he settled for because he couldn’t have me. You’re,” she jabbed that finger again, “second-best and you’ll always be --”

“Touch me again and I will hit you.”

“-- second-best. The consolation prize.” She did just what Jo had warned her not to, jabbing that finger against her with the last two words.

Jo’s temper erupted, her fist flying out. The blow sent Lisa reeling against the side of the house and Jo held out a hand towards Sam when he started forward, shaking her head. She didn’t need him getting in the middle of this. He returned to the car.

After a long moment, Lisa touched a shaking hand to her jaw. “You hit me, you crazy ass bitch!”

“Bring it.” Jo made a ‘come on’ gesture with both hands. “You’re such a hot-shot when Dean’s not around to hear you. Let’s go. Let’s dance.”

Lisa crossed her arms. “No. I have a respect for Dean’s child, which could get hurt.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Respect for his kid. But not respect for the mother of his child. Nice. Sure it’s not more like fear of how he’d react? Your image might be tarnished. Dean might see you as something other than the apple pie he always wanted.” Jo smiled a little at the surprise that rippled across the woman’s face. “Yeah, he told me all about apple pie.” She gave the house and yard an exaggerated perusal. “Looks great on the outside. Inside isn’t so hot though, is it?”

Her lips pursed. “I won’t fight you. I’m above physical violence.”

Jo laughed. “No, you know I’ll hand you your ass right back to you in pieces.”

Lisa shook her head. “I’ve taken courses. I could hold my own.”

“Sure,” Jo said with a nod. “For like ten seconds. I was raised in a barroom, surrounded by hunters. If you’ve seen Dean fight, you know the sort of fighting hunters do. It’s dirty and messy, not neat and clean like the movies. I’ve wrestled creatures from nightmares and I don’t give a damn if I break a nail. Now you tell me which one of us would win a fight.”

“Fights aren’t always physical, Jo.” Calculation flared in her eyes and she turned her head, giving the door a pointed stare. “You said yourself that I have a certain image to Dean.” She made her voice a fraction higher and sing-songed, “Oh, Dean, I don’t know what happened. Jo just hit me for no reason. I don’t understand why….” She lowered her voice back down and flipped her hair back over her shoulders with a hand. “Get the picture. The jealous wife, who can’t accept her husband’s past. The ex-girlfriend just congratulating her and trying to give some pregnancy advice. Extending a hand of friendship to the woman who saved her life. Can you picture that scene? I can rock that one if I have to. Try explaining _that_ to Dean.”

“Don’t even think about it. Don’t think for one minute that anything you do or say is going to break us up or bring Dean back to you. We had a Trickster on our asses and you’re an amateur compared to him.”

“I don’t want Dean back, Jo. If I’d wanted your life, I could have had it. I could have been you, with the baby and with…Sam over there, but I chose to end it.”

“Not how I heard it.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Is it? Version I heard, you couldn’t hack it as a hunter’s girlfriend, let alone anything near a wife. It takes a certain type of person to make it work and that person wasn’t you. Now who’s stronger, sweetie?”

“I ended it.”

“Yeah, and kept calling him anyway. Mixed signals anyone? If you make one move towards my husband, I will not hesitate to feed you your ass. Next time, I won’t back down. Next time, you’ll be on the ground whimpering wishing you’d gotten the message the first time. Got me?”

Lisa snorted, then nodded. “Loud and clear.”

“You’re going to want to put ice on that to bring the swelling down.”

“You’re psychotic.”

“Look, you taunt me, you’re going to get a reaction. You got one. I told you exactly what I was going to do if you poked me with that manicured nail one more time. Don’t cry now because I did what I said I would.”

There was silence between them for a long minute. She saw Gwen sit up and look out the window at them, then lay back down.

“Whatever I think of you, Lisa, you’ve got a good, smart, strong, independent boy.”

She had a bit of advice to get out on the subject of Ben. Not that Lisa would take it.

~~~~~~~~~~

In all of the months he’d spent with Lisa, Dean had never seen her behave in such an outright rude manner. Ignoring Jo? Ignoring Sam? It puzzled him. What was wrong with her? Was she in a state of deep shock? Something was off and he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Maybe he was tired. He was ready to start for home, but first he needed to talk to Ben, then Lisa. A final chat with both.

Dean was hesitant to leave Jo and Lisa alone for any length of time. He needed to say a proper goodbye to Ben though and Ben was upstairs. He gave Jo’s arm a gentle squeeze before going up the stairs. The last goodbye talk he’d had with Ben hadn’t gone well, ending with Dean feeling worse than he already had. He knocked on the door. It creaked open. Ben was lying on his bed, texting someone -- probably Tommy. “We’re getting ready to head out.”

He set the phone aside. “Thank them for me?”

“You could thank them yourself. Sam and Gwen are outside, Jo’s downstairs.”

Ben peered at the open door, then sighed and shook his head. “I’d like to…but it’d upset mom and she’s already upset enough.”

Dean acknowledged that with a nod. “She is upset.” Though it looked like Lisa had already begun ignoring the things she didn’t want to see or accept experiencing. Was this how she’d been the last time? He hadn’t been around to see it. He’d seen her do it with other things, smaller ones.

Ben fidgeted a moment. “You know, I didn’t expect to meet your family and I didn’t expect I’d like them. Jo and Gwen…. Jo didn’t have to be nice to me and she was. Gwen didn’t have to tell me the truth and she did. And Sam. Sam wasn’t the way I thought he was.” His gaze turned to the floor. “You’re going for good this time, aren’t you? You’re really going to disappear. Even if I try looking I won’t find you.”

He deserved to have the truth. “I am. You won’t find me.” He planned to ask Castiel for a favor to ensure that happened. “I have to -- for my family. I have to consider my wife’s feelings, what it does to her to interact with your mom and the reverse. It’s not a good thing for them to interact.”

“No kidding,” Ben mumbled.

“We can’t stay in touch. It’s just not a good thing for many reasons.”

“I know.” This time, it seemed Ben understood. He’d grown up a lot since Dean had been with them. “I really am glad you have a family, Dean. That you’re going to be a dad.”

“You know, my having a family…it doesn’t mean I’m going to forget you, Ben. I’ll always remember you, wonder how you are. Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean you’re out of my mind. That time I had to be a father to you --”

“Was a trial run. You know? Practice before the real thing. You know you can be a dad because you were to me.”

“Ben….” Dean shook his head. “I failed at it.”

He frowned, looking at Dean like he was nuts. “How did you fail? You were an awesome dad. I mean, sure there were things I didn’t like, like moving, but if we hadn’t I wouldn’t have met Tommy. My friend’s dads are all morons. You’re the best dad I’ve ever had.”

He’d thought he’d failed. He’d thought he’d been a terrible dad, yet Ben thought he’d been that good? “What about your real dad? He good?”

Glancing away, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess he has coolness potential. I don’t really know him that well yet.”

“You gonna give him a chance?”

“Maybe. He _does_ have a motorcycle. That’s sort of badass.”

“It sorta is.” He cleared his throat. “I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Your mom. Years ago after the changeling. She space out then like she did earlier today?”

After a long moment, Ben nodded slowly. “Yeah, she did. We packed up after you left and went to grandma and grandpa’s, stayed with them awhile. They hired someone to sell our house and box up everything and we moved. She was real quiet for a long time.”

“She ever talk to anyone about what happened?”

“You mean like a shrink?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Just one day she was smiling again and things went back to normal.”

“You got your dad’s number?”

“Why? You want it too?”

“Too?” His brows rose with the question.

“Yeah. Gwen got it earlier.”

Was Gwen already ahead of him, maneuvering Ben’s dad into a position of support for Lisa? He’d have to ask her later. “I see. No, I don’t want it, but, uh, if you think you need someone here, call him. Don’t be afraid to reach out to him. I suspect he’d like it if you’d turn to him for help.” He squeezed Ben’s shoulder and got up to leave, stopping as Ben spoke again.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“For what?” He turned back.

“Mom’s not being very nice to Jo and I’m sorry. I…I think she’s jealous. We still talk about you sometimes and I think she hoped…hoped that you’d come back again to stay.”

If she had, it’d explain her behavior towards both Sam and Jo. Seeing them with him would smash whatever little sliver of that dream she may have had. “Maybe she did.” If she had, she should have known it was a pipe dream. _She’d_ been the one to end it, to declare that she couldn’t live his type of life. She’d seen that he couldn’t retire, knew it as truth. It never would have worked out between them the way she’d wanted it to. Their two worlds didn’t mesh. Lisa knew that. “She knows it couldn’t happen, not with my life then and not --”

“With it now. You’ve got Jo and the baby coming.”

“Very true, but you don’t have to apologize for her.”

“I want to. I want to apologize because she can’t right now and won’t be able to later.”

When did Ben get to be so perceptive?

“She’s not perfect. I know that.” Ben’s gaze was so very adult as he spoke. “But she’s my mom. I love her, Dean.”

“I know. You love her a lot. You wouldn’t have done what you did if you didn’t.”

“I can’t do what you do and it’s hard to understand how you can stand to do it. Where do you get that strength? I can’t be a hunter.”

“No, but you know what I think this world needs that’s just as important as hunters?”

Ben shook his head.

“People who understand what it is we do and have the heart and stomach to clean up the messes we have to leave behind. You want to help people, Ben? You do that. You get yourself in a position to help the survivors and you never let up. You can be the hero that gets seen, the one the world acknowledges. We’re okay with that. We don’t need the recognition.”

“Be careful, Dean.”

There was a loud thump against the house and he cocked his head, listening. It was very quiet downstairs. Silence between two women who clearly didn’t like each other wasn’t a good thing. Maybe he should head that way…. “Only so much careful that can happen in my job, but I’ll do my best.”

Ben didn’t hug him, he was too old for that, at the age where it wasn’t cool. “Tell them goodbye for me?”

“I will. Goodbye, Ben.”

He went down the stairs slowly, moving as quietly as he could. Jo and Lisa were outside talking. That explained the silence inside. He paused at the door, listening carefully. They didn’t appear to notice him watching them through the door.

“Whatever I think of _you_ , Lisa, you’ve got a good, smart, strong, independent boy,”

Jo said, her voice carefully neutral. It was the same tone she used when she’d just had a knock-down drag out. Neutral because anything else and she’d start whaling on the person with her.

That also wasn’t a good sign. Something had already happened and he hadn’t even been in Ben’s room five minutes.

“He’s independent alright,” Lisa replied dryly. Her voice sounded strange, subdued.

“Independent is good, but the way Ben’s rebelling….Lisa, you can’t hold him here with you forever. You try and he’ll bolt. Might not be tomorrow, but it’ll happen. Give him some freedom.”

“You’ve known Ben a couple days, Jo. You don’t know him. Don’t pretend you do.”

“I know how he’s feeling. I was him at that age. Raring to go, ready in my mind to take action and have adventures, so sure that hunting was this cool, exciting profession.”

“Was it?”

“It had it’s minuses I hadn’t considered.”

“Implying there are pluses.”

Dean blinked in surprise. Lisa had always told him that being a hunter was a good thing. He recalled she’d stressed it once, yet now, she made it sound like a bad thing. Had the events of the night managed to change that perception? She was alive because of a hunter. Hunters plural. Where was the attitude coming from?

“There are pluses. “ He heard Jo take a deep breath. “A sense of true independence, increased self-confidence in dangerous situations, traveling the world, proficiency in dead languages and esoteric lore, increased detecting skills, meeting all sorts of people….” She cleared her throat. Dean had to admit that Jo did make it sound fun. She could recruit people easily with that speech, like the army. “And learning how not to be upset when the person whose ass you just saved is completely and totally ungrateful about it.”

“Hey, I said thank you.”

“Sure,” Jo agreed. “After Dean made it clear he wasn’t the one killed the demon.”

“It was an emotional moment.”

“Mm-hmm, and you would have macked on my husband in a second if he hadn’t turned away. I’m not blind, Lisa. I saw the shirt grab you made to pull him back.”

Shirt grab? Yeah, he did kind of remember feeling a tug on his shirt as he’d left Lisa to go to Jo at the barn.

“It’s sort of customary to thank the person who saves your life and I thought it was him.”

“Customary. My point exactly.”

“God, you’re such a _bitch_ ,” Lisa snapped.

“Takes one to know one,” she shot back. They were both in a snit, barely civil, their voices displaying that fact. “But back to what I was saying. I took the running off option and it was years before all was really right between me and my mom again. Now, I don’t like you and it’s obviously mutual, but in no way do I want you to have to go through what my mom did. Encourage Ben’s interest in helping people. He seems to like that. Go for anything with an edge to it, like police work, fireman, emergency room doctor, or maybe paramedic like he said his dad is.”

Exactly what he and Ben had already covered. Professions that cleaned up the messes of the world. He thought Ben would do well in any of those.

“I can raise my own child, thank you. You’re not a mother yet, Jo.”

Dean didn’t particularly like the tone Lisa took and reached for the doorknob.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need or want your help.”

“Personal experience --”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your personal experience. As far as I’m concerned --”

He opened the door. Lisa and Jo were standing very close together. Lisa had a mark on her jaw that hadn’t been there before and Jo looked ready to punch, dislike simmering in her eyes. “Everything okay,” he asked, taking another long glance at the red mark on Lisa’s jaw. Actually, it looked like Jo already _had_ punched. What was going on out here?

“Just fine.” Lisa stepped back and smiled as though the conversation had been genial on her part. She only winced a fraction. If he hadn’t heard it all, he might have wondered why Jo was spitting mad. He _had_ heard however and couldn’t quite get Lisa calling Jo a bitch to her face out of his head. A bitch. Lisa had called his wife a bitch. What the _hell_ was that about?

Anger made a muscle on his jaw tick.

“I’ll be at the car,” Jo told him in a tight voice and moved to join Sam. He was standing, leaning against the car, while Gwen was in the backseat lying down.

Lisa sat on the steps. “You’re married.”

Nodding, he joined her slowly, sitting with a good distance between them. “Going on about…oh… ten months now.”

There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes, quickly masked. “Ten months?”

Why was that such a surprise? She’d never been the only woman he’d ever known. Did she think he’d been a monk since leaving? Did she think he’d spent all this time pining for her?

“How’d you meet? She’s a hunter, right?” The way she said it sounded weird, like she thought a woman could never do the job and didn’t believe it possible.

“You could say our folks brought us together.” It was true in a way. He and Sam had initially gone to the Roadhouse because of Ellen’s call regarding John Winchester’s obsession and there Jo had socked him in the eye. That was going to be a story to tell their kid someday.

“Never would have thought _that_.” Her gaze remained fixed upon Sam and Jo.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…you’re an active hunter.” 

Like that explained it. He took a guess at what she meant. “You mean…what woman would want that for her daughter? How could that work? How could an active hunter be a good husband?” Guilt slid about her eyes for a brief second when she glanced at him. Guilt. He was right. Direct hit. That stunned him a moment. “My God, you really don’t believe an active hunter can have an ongoing relationship. Lisa, just because we didn’t work --”

“I didn’t say that, Dean. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You didn’t have to say it. It’s all over your face, that whole ‘what sort of woman must Jo be to settle for that’.”

“If she wants to settle, that’s her choice.”

“You were willing to settle at first, if I recall correctly.”

She made a noise of frustration. “That came out all wrong.”

“Mm-hmm. Jo’s parents were hunters. Her mom still is.”

“Good for them. Hunters are good things.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowed. It wasn’t what she said, but how she said it. Almost flippant, dismissive, like she still, after everything, didn’t understand about what hunting was. How could she not understand? She said it the way Dean had once described it in front of Jess, like it was game hunting. Lisa was a smart woman, so how could she not get it at all?

Dean shook his head and clasped his hands together, leaning forward a fraction. “Hunting _is_ good. Someone has to face the ugly things out in the world and take them down and there are a lot of them. I make the world a safer place every damn day. So do Sam, Jo, Gwen, and all the other hunters out there. We save lives. You know all that, Lisa. You pointed it out to me once.” He looked at her, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. “Jo and I may not have the normal idea of a good life, but we do have a good life. It’s good and it’s working and I thank God nightly that that woman was brought back into my life. She helps me put things in perspective. A hunter _can_ have a wife and kids. It’s not apple pie and it’ll never be apple pie, but I don’t want apple pie anymore. It’s more of a tart sweet cherry and you know what? That’s what I was really craving all along. I just didn’t know it then.”

Tart sweet cherry. It was a good way to describe it, he decided. Their life had a sweetness to it, yet a tart moment now and then. It was different and far from average.

Lisa looked like he’d been the one to punch her and not Jo, shaken by those words. Why? What was there in them to bother her?

“I want that and I want her. For life. I made that decision months ago.”

“So, what are you saying?” She shrugged. “You hated our time together? Was I wrong to want you there in my life to stay? I was wrong to love you like I did?”

Dean shook his head again. Love? He’d never been under any illusion that she’d loved him. “Lisa, you wanted a man I’m not and couldn’t ever really be. I didn’t hate our year. There were some good times and I’m grateful you were there to take me in when I had nowhere else to go that was outside of the life. But there were also bad times. Remember those? The disagreements? We weren’t compatible. I’m a hunter through and through and you’re a civilian through and through. Put those together and it’s oil and water. You don’t want my life and I get that. I do. Sometimes, I haven’t wanted it either. It’s not for everyone. I think it takes a certain type of person to survive in it.” He took a deep breath. If there was one thing he needed to talk about with her, it was Sam. “That call…. Where you said I’d never be happy with Sam…. Do you remember saying that?” 

Her nod was slow. “I do. I did.”

“You were wrong. I _am_ happy with him and yeah, you were right, too. We’re close. We’re codependent as all hell and for most people that’d be a bad thing, but for us it’s not. It makes us stronger. We’re not a normal family. Never will be. Without Sam, I was weak. With him --”

“I already heard all of this from your…wife. She was rather forceful.”

“Jo’s a little protective.” He looked over at Jo.

“To be completely honest, Dean?” Her tone hardened, took on a bitter cast. “Jo’s a bitch.”

He went very still. Wasn’t anger supposed to be hot? His felt cold. Icy even. Was she really going to go there with him? Out of all the things she could say, she went there? “That _bitch_ saved your life,” he reminded her coldly. “Show a little gratitude. You’d be dead right now if she’d stayed home.” 

“Oh, I’m grateful.” She sure didn’t sound like it. “I’ll kiss her feet right now, but she’s still a mouthy bitch.”

“She’s my mouthy bitch, so keep it to yourself.” 

Lisa turned a little, anger rippling across her face, along with the barest traces of jealousy. “What do you want me to say right now, Dean? Why are we even having this conversation? You want to gloat about how terrific your life is? You’re married. That’s great. You’re having a baby. Congratulations. You’re happy with Sam and hunting and life is perfect. Wonderful. I’m happy for you. You saved my life. No, wait…. _Jo_ saved it. Thanks. Thank her for saving my life and all of you for leaving it a mess once more. I have to move again, start over. Again. Thanks.”

He stared at her. Was he hearing what he thought he was? Was she dismissing the fact that she was alive to see another day? “Ben could have been made an orphan today and you’re going to get pissy about the aftermath?”

She snorted. “I was kidnapped from my house in the middle of the night, had my arm sliced open, and was nearly stabbed by an apparently insane demon. My DNA is at a horrific crime scene, Dean. That’s sort of a life changing thing.”

Mentally, he went over everything he, Sam, Jo, Gwen, Bobby, and Ellen had been through in the past couple years. From his perspective, Lisa was…well…whining. He’d never seen her behave this way before. She just didn’t _get_ it. Where was the true happiness at being alive? Of Ben being alive? Where was the pride at Ben doing all he could to save her life because he loved her? Where was the relief that she was out of danger and could go back to her life?

All he was seeing was dislike for Jo, disbelief and jealousy over his marriage, and a disappointment that it hadn’t been him who’d saved her. Why did it matter who it had been? She was alive. Had she slid into La-La Land?

Dean blinked several times and looked at Jo. She was standing with Sam, the two of them talking, something Sam said taking the peeved frown away and replacing it with a grin. His two rocks, anchoring him in the tart cherry life and helping him navigate those less traveled, bumpy waters.

“Boo-hoo,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Incredulity colored her voice.

“You heard me.” Getting up, he moved to pace a few steps in front of her. “Lady, you got your head screwed on the wrong way and for the longest time, I was sure it was me. I was sure I wasn’t good enough for you. I was sure I failed with our relationship. But it’s _not_ me.” He pointed at her. “It’s you. Ben risked your anger and mine, plus a ton of legal issues, to try to save your life. My pregnant wife, who should be home resting, came to help, _convinced_ you were in danger. She was the first one to listen to Ben and decide that maybe he was telling the truth. She ended up saving your ass -- all because she’s devoted to saving people whether she likes them or not. It’s all her and Sam, Lisa, because I didn’t think you were in danger until almost too late. My brother, who you’ve never been particularly nice about, worked to find out the truth and was the second one after Jo to try to keep you safe.” He stopped pacing, facing her. “But all of that is nothing because you might have to move again. Are you freakin’ serious? Tell me you’re in shock, Lisa, because you should be glad to be alive, yet you’re bitching about the little things.” He shook his head. He hadn’t meant to say all of that, but it felt good, a cleansing catharsis washing him clean. “Tell me there’s a good reason you’re behaving like this.”

Her eyes narrowed and she rearranged her features into something like regret. “I’m sorry, Dean. It was a shock to realize back at the barn that Jo was your wife. I thought she was Sam’s wife. They never said --”

“That makes it okay to call her a bitch to her face and then to me? You called my wife, my beautiful selfless wife, a bitch. Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t know her. You have no idea what Jo has been through. She’s died, she was tortured by an angel with a grudge for God knows how long, and she went through the agony of thinking her own mother didn’t remember her and never would again because of that same angel. And that’s on top of all the years leading up to that. You think your life is so tough? Try having had hers until a little over a year ago. You’ve had it easy, sweetheart. You’d never survive ten minutes of her life.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Her tone was coaxing. “I’m talking before I think. I’m upset, Dean. You’re misunderstanding me.”

“No, I don’t think I _am_ misunderstanding. I think you’re saying exactly what you mean. I think you’re finally saying exactly what you mean.”

She looked away, lips pursing.

Dean watched her a moment. No denial slipped forth. It was true. All of it. She really thought those things. “That’s what I thought. You think Jo’s a bitch, it’s not possible that I can be married, and have a happy life hunting and with Sam. Speaking of Sam…. What’s your beef with him, anyway? I told you very little overall about us and you only ever exchanged maybe ten words with him. Why do you hate him so much?”

“Why don’t you ask your wife, Dean? She seems to hold all of the answers for you.” 

“Maybe I will. She’s a wise woman.”

She snorted, all pretense at geniality disappearing. “Young doesn’t mean wise.”

His mind felt a bit numb and he was having trouble processing her like this. Was this the real her? Had she never, in all of their months together, shown him the real her? He’d never thought her jealous before, never…. 

Jealous. It all clicked into place. She wasn’t just jealous of Jo, she was jealous of Sam. She’d always been jealous of Sam. Why hadn’t he seen it? 

“Maybe not, but the advice she gave you is wise. She told you to guide Ben towards certain professions.”

Lisa licked her lips, swallowing hard. Her eyes slipped shut for a few seconds. “You heard that?” She seemed to realize rather belatedly that she’d made a colossal mistake and he’d heard more than she’d thought.

“I did and it’s good advice. It’s wise advice no matter how old Jo is or isn’t. If you’re smart, Lisa, and I know you are, you’ll take that advice. You don’t have to like a person to know when they’re talking sense.” 

“What else did you hear?” Her face paled.

“Enough.” Reaching into his shirt pocket, he took out a slip of paper. “Here.”

“What is it?” She eyed it, not moving to take it.

“The name and number of two hunters, both contacts of Gwen and Jo, so if you call them for anything, you’ll need to mention either Gwen or Jo or both. I don’t personally know either of them, but Gwen and Jo assure me that Sophie and Mick are excellent.” They’d all agreed that was best. Yeah, it’d irritate Lisa to have to use one of Jo’s contacts if she needed a hunter in the future, but if she really wanted to survive a future event, she’d swallow her dislike. And if her dislike got in the way…. It was her decision. The contacts were Gwen and Jo’s, with no connection to Dean or Sam.

“Dean, I don’t want --”

“You won’t take it, I give it to Ben. He had the sense this time to call us in while you sat there ignoring what he was trying to tell you.”

Her features hardened and she snatched the paper from him. “I don’t need hunters in my life.”

Obviously she did. “You made that clear, but things happen. If any more of them happen, you’ll be prepared.”

“I don’t want anything else to happen,” she spat out.

“You might not have a choice, “ he snapped back.

She slid the paper into her pocket. “All I want is normal back. I don’t want some _freak_ life….” she sputtered to a stop. “I don’t mean freak, I mean --”

“Yeah, you do.” He took a few steps back from her. Suddenly Dean felt exhausted, his anger sliding from him like air leaking from a balloon. “You mean freak. Strange, odd, bizarre, not the norm. It’s okay. It is freakish sometimes. It’s a rollercoaster ride of freak and it doesn’t ever end.” Dean sighed. “As for your DNA out there? It was taken care of. You can stay here until you’re old and gray. You can have the norm and I wish you the best of luck in it. A good life, good relationship with Ben and his dad, the whole apple pie. As for me?” He smiled. “I’m gonna let my freak flag fly from here on out. Goodbye Lisa.”

Ben appeared at the window upstairs and Dean waved at him, receiving a grin and wave in return, then turned and walked away.

He felt lighter of spirit, the pieces of this past that had clung to him sloughing away like dead skin. Finally. He felt…cleansed. Fully ready for the future.

Going to Jo, her grabbed her to him and kissed her until Gwen reached through the open Impala window, poked a sharp finger in his side and told them to ‘get a room’.

He ran his fingers through Jo’s hair, looked at Sam, Gwen and back at Jo. “What’s say we go home?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Jo said.

“Here, Jo.” Sam opened the front passenger door.

She shook her head. “No, Sam, you sit up front. I’m going to stretch out in back.”

Dean got in the driver’s seat while they worked out arrangements. As he settled in, Gwen put a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward.

“How’s that bridge,” she asked.

“Ashes, but as safe as it can be.”

Her hand squeezed once and she leaned back.

He didn’t look back at the house when they drove away.


	43. Chapter 43

There was never going to be a world were Jo could have a civil conversation with Lisa Braeden. It was a fact and one Jo accepted as she left the porch and crossed to the Impala.

“That was some punch, Jo. What on earth did she say to you,” Sam asked when Jo joined him. His face was a mess of bruises and swollen places and she wondered if he’d accept some angelic healing right now if Castiel happened to show up. She suspected he might not refuse an offer. Then again, he might. Sam was fairly adamant about not relying on Castiel’s powers.

“She said a bunch of nonsense, but it wasn’t only the words that pissed me off, it was the pokes with her sharp nail.” Jo leaned against the car, rubbing that spot on her chest with the hand that wasn’t starting to ache. “What do you think he’s saying to her,” she asked, twisting her wrist a little. She needed to have Dean stop to get some ice or something once they were on the road. Somehow, she didn’t think Lisa would let her have a plastic baggie of ice before they left. 

The conversation between Dean and Lisa began as wary and quickly escalated into heated. Their voices weren’t quite loud enough to hear what they were saying, only loud enough to tell that both were angry, Dean growing more so as the conversation went on. In fact, it looked like Dean was furious. Tension fairly radiated off him in waves.

“Something she’s not liking,” Sam replied, scuffing one foot along the ground before crossing his ankles.

He was right. Lisa’s expressions were shifting quickly, like she was having trouble recovering from one topic before another verbal ball came right at her. She seemed very much like a woman scrambling to keep her footing in the conversation and failing miserably at it.

Good, Jo thought with a bit of smugness. Let that mask slip. Let it all hang out where Dean can see it. “There’s a lot of that going around. She didn’t like what I told her.”

“There are things that need to be said between them and I’m betting those things aren’t pretty on either side. What did you tell her?” Gwen poked her head out the window between them, resting her chin on her crossed arms. Her eyes were bright with the anticipation of a good story.

“Just that Dean was mine now and she wasn’t going to get him back or pull us apart.”

“You really think she listened?” Gwen uttered a half-laugh. “That woman is in her own little world. She just cut the two of you out while the rest of us were living in reality. That’s not the sign of a person who’ll listen to the wife. If she considers you not there in the first place, whatever you say will be dismissed.”

“No.” Jo shook her head. “She got the point.” She’d definitely understood what Jo had told her.

“Rather forcefully, too.” One of Sam’s hands moved, fingers sliding across Gwen’s cheek. Jo saw Gwen turn her face to that touch. A tender look passed between the two. It was good to see them affectionate. She liked that both her friends were happy together. They deserved happiness.

“I probably _shouldn’t_ have decked her. Looking back, it wasn’t a good idea…but damn it sure felt good. Not so good now,” Jo raised her hand a little, “but good when I did it.”

“You could always blame the pregnancy hormones on that,” Gwen suggested. “You are a little moody these days, prone to emotional outbursts.” 

“I could,” Jo agreed, tucking her hair behind her ears. “But I think I’ll just accept that it was a spur of the moment decision and something I’ve been really wanting to do. I admit it. I’ve wanted to hit her since Sam and I saw her that day.”

“I’m still surprised you didn’t,” he informed her. “I honestly thought it was a strong possibility.”

“You know…. On the outside, she’s the embodiment of all that’s normal. Look around. Nice house, normal job, kid, very average life. Lisa is normal. When Dean picked her for his vision of the apple pie American life, he made a good choice. He did. On the outside. Again, the house, the job, the kid, the life. Ho-hum, ordinary, every day. Barbecues and golf. Nine to five job in construction, trucks, and cooking breakfast together on the weekends.”

“You and Dean cook breakfast together,” Sam pointed out and he was right. Jo did cook breakfast with Dean some mornings at the base, though it was more like she manned the toaster while he cooked eggs, or she got out butter and syrup while he made the pancakes or waffles. She could cook if he really wanted, but most mornings, she had a bowl of cereal and some sliced strawberries or a banana. Dean usually chose doughnuts or something like that.

“So do Sam and I.” Also true, though Gwen and Sam were more like a well-oiled machine than Jo and Dean were, following recipes and precisely measuring ingredients. Jo and Dean were far more cavalier in their cooking efforts. A little of this, a little of that, a pinch of this or that. Whatever smelled good. Whenever Gwen got out of her comfort zone of things she could cook, she seemed afraid she’d mess it up if she didn’t follow the directions exactly.

“But it’s different. It’s not an average, every day situation. He made a good choice with her for normal.”

“To a point. But you can have normal without going to this extreme. He went extreme, from hunting to this.” Sam’s expression shifted, a brief glimpse of sorrow surfacing before it was gone once more. “I lived normal for awhile. I tried to have that life, too.”

Gwen squeezed his hand with hers, then slid down to lie on the seat again. “I pity her. Lisa. Normal isn’t everything.”

“You’re right,” Sam agreed. “It isn’t everything, though it is nice to have a taste of now and then. Our life isn’t for everyone.”

Gwen drew her knees up. “And normal isn’t for everyone either. This life here? I’d be howling in days. Maybe even hours. What the hell would I do in a normal life? A boring, average normal life? I cook basic things, I don’t read fashion magazines, I’m not happy homemaker material --”

“But you know who you are, Gwen.” Jo shifted her weight. “That’s never changed. In the time I’ve known you, you’ve never doubted who you are at the core -- even while searching for your birth parents. You’re a hunter. That’s you. You’ve accepted that as who you are, essential to you as a person. If you come to doubt everything you are, how do you find out the truth of yourself if you don’t look at the things you didn’t have before and compare them to what you did have?”

“You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Jo nodded. “Exactly.”

“Mmm.” Gwen shifted position. “Well, Lisa Braeden can keep her normal life in a small town. Give me our base and a few bad things to kill and I’m happy.”

“Here, here,” Jo replied. She was very happy in their life at present. Loving husband, baby on the way, friends she counted as family.

Sam laughed. “You two aren’t that easy to please.”

Jo smiled, looking up at him. “Are you implying we’re difficult?”

“Difficult? Uh….” He slid a hand into his jeans pockets and made a slow shrug. “More like as complicated as women can get and Dean and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Jo reached for his free hand, grasping it in hers for a moment, then releasing it. “You’re sweet, Sam.”

“Thanks.”

“You do realize that she’s not the kind of person who can accept our world in hers, right?” Gwen sat up again. “She can’t blend the two, can’t combine them into one world and keep her sanity. You can see it in her eyes if you look hard enough for it. She’s floating down denial in a dinghy as we speak. She’ll drown in it if she doesn’t get help.”

“No, I don’t think she’ll drown,” Sam said, looking at Gwen. “I think she lives in various states of denial. And she’s manipulative,” Sam reminded them. “We all know it. Even Dean knows it. She did a number on him. Put the two together and she can manipulate her own mind into believing her world is what she wants it to be.”

“True. All true. Maybe she is the wicked bitch of the North Midwest. But….” Jo crossed her arms, turning to face Sam, leaning her hip against the car door. “I’ll bet she had a romantic, idealized expectation of what their life should have been like and did everything she could to make it happen and keep it. She probably liked the idea of Dean. A lot of women would.”

“You did.”

Jo acknowledged Sam’s comment with a nod. “I did. For years. Dean Winchester.” She clasped her hands together, pressed them to her chest, and struck a dramatic pose. “Be still my beating heart. He’s so dreamy!” She relaxed against the Impala again. Her smile this time was sad. “I grew up though and while the idea was nice, it was an only idea, then a nightmare until you guys found me and it became an idea again. An idea is nice, but sometimes the reality of a person isn’t what you expect. The pedestal comes crashing down and you realize the halo on your angel is rather tarnished and the armor your white knight has on is rusty and in some cases is held in place with duct tape and bailing wire.”

Gwen laughed at that. “Truer words were never spoken.”

“I expected the man I found beneath what my idea of Dean was. I knew him well enough to begin with to have a decent idea of him. I don’t think she did. She couldn’t begin to understand the man he was because his life was so alien from hers from the beginning. Think about it. Who was Dean to her?”

“A hero once, saving her son.” Sam turned towards the car.

“A bad boy needing shelter, the man she’d once had a fling with who wanted to settle down and get out of his old life. Can you imagine the things that might have been going on in her head? Maybe she thought she could fix him, make him all better with the power of her love.”

“Gag.” Gwen made a puking noise. “That’s romance novel stuff.”

“It is, but people really do think that way. Try to change people, make them into what they think the person should be…. Romantic idealizations.” Jo glanced down at Gwen and up at Sam. “I had them once.”

Sam blinked, understanding slipping over his features. He knew what had happened those months after she’d left the Roadhouse; those various events that had begun to wear down those notions she’d had into something more realistic. She knew he knew because she’d shared it with him and Dean both. He shook his head. “Jo, you’ve never been like Lisa. You’ve always known the stakes.”

“No, Sam, I didn’t. I should have and I didn’t. I was naïve and when Meg used the word ‘schoolgirl’ she was right in that. I was very naïve. When I left home, I didn’t understand completely and that was a rather painful lesson I learned. I got hit hard several times before I had all of the wind knocked out of my cocky little sails.” She shrugged. “I’m tired of talking about Lisa. Let’s change the subject.”

It wasn’t long before the heated conversation Dean and Lisa were having was over and Dean walked across the lawn to them. He looked like the weight of the world was finally off of his shoulders, cheery almost, and Jo was glad to see it.

She looked back once they were all in the car. Ben still waved from the upper window, but Lisa? Lisa was gone from the front step. Jo waved back at Ben, then smoothed her shirt over her stomach and leaned her head back. 

“So, slugger,” Dean began, pulling onto the road. “You _hit_ Lisa? Need to stop and get some ice for that hand?”

“You saw that?”

“Not the actual punch, just the mark on her face and heard your tone.”

“My tone? What tone? I don’t have a tone.”

Gwen and Sam both snorted.

“The one that says you’re ticked off and trying to reign yourself in after a first strike. Wanna tell me what she said?”

“Dean, it’s not important.”

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “It was important enough to make you deck her. Spill.”

“She was making herself feel better, telling the truth as she saw it.” Jo sighed. “She said I was second best, that you settled for me because you couldn’t have her. That…and a ton of other things. I know it’s not true. I goaded her, she goaded me, and I warned her not to put hands on me again --”

“Wait, she hit you?” The car lurched as he slammed on the brakes. He put the Impala in reverse and turned to see behind him to back up. “We’re going back.”

“No, Dean --”

“She poked Jo in the chest several times with a finger,” Sam supplied. “She didn’t hit her.”

“Jo showed more restraint than I would have,” Gwen said. “I would’ve broken that finger and maybe another for good measure.”

“She _didn’t_ hit you?” He watched her closely.

“No, she didn’t hit me.”

“She better not have.” Turning, he put the car back into drive.

Once they were actually on the road, Jo gave her mom a call, letting her know the outcome and that they were all alive and well. Ellen promised to pass the word on to Bobby and Jo concluded the chat. She stretched out like she’d said she planned to and the movement of the car lulled her into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was perusing the case of sodas and water in the gas station, trying to decide if he wanted a small or large bottle of water, when Dean came up, a huge plastic cup in his hands. Sam eyed it. “Slushie?”

“I’m getting in touch with my inner child.”

“With a bucket ‘o slushie. Okay.” He was going to have a sugar crash in a couple hours with the amount of sugar in that cup. Sam glanced at his watch. It’d be late enough then that they could stop for the night.

“All they had were the ‘drown-in-it’ cups. It’s not bad. Wanna sip?” He held it out, jiggling it. “It’s cherry.”

“No.” A large water it was. He opened the fridge and grabbed one. “I’ll pass.”

“Your loss. Hey, you ever think you know someone only to find out that you never really knew them at all?”

Sam eyed him a moment. “You want that list alphabetically or chronologically? I could do both, though alphabetically might take longer.”

“You wanna not be a smartass? It’s a serious question.”

He let the glass door slam shut. “Then it’s a serious answer. Yes, Dean. A lot of people. I thought I’ve known a lot of people who weren’t what I’d originally thought they were. It happens to everyone.”

Dean sucked in a swallow of the half frozen cola drink. “I thought I knew her, Sam. A year with her and I find out now that she was jealous of you the whole time. It was all about jealousy. How did I not see it? How did I not see any of it? I’m supposed to be observant. Notice things others don’t and I think everyone noticed that part but me. I Mr. Magoo’d it for a year.” He shook the cup, swirling the contents around. “More than a year. All the way to today. I had no idea she was like that. You’d think I would’ve had some sort of notion.”

It seemed like he could still count on Lisa to make Dean feel bad about himself in some way. The new way was apparently going to be his observational skills. It wasn’t like he’d had no idea about her, either. He’d known she’d manipulated him and known something hadn’t been right between them. He’d talked about that to Sam and Jo both. This was just a knee-jerk reaction to the events of the day that Sam hoped would pass fairly quickly without snowballing into something bigger.

Sam started towards the counter to pay. Dean walked beside him, snatching a bag of cheese popcorn from the rack as they passed. “Look, you were in a state of deep grief, shock, and emotional pain. I’m not surprised you didn’t see it. And then after, you thought you’d left her in the past. There wasn’t a reason then to really look at her again.”

“I should’ve seen it. Should have seen something. One year with that woman and I never knew her at all.”

“Don’t feel bad, Dean. I get the feeling she doesn’t let many people see the full her and I don’t think she knew you either.”

“Maybe not.” 

“Think about it this way. It could have been worse. She could’ve been a serial killer offing guys right under your nose. How stupid would you feel if there’d been bodies in the basements and internal organs jarred up in the pantry and you’d never noticed any of it?” He glanced at Dean. “She was a quiet woman, kept to herself. Liked kids.”

He was rewarded with the start of an amused smile. “True. Where’s Gwen?” He leaned against the edge of the counter and looked around the building.

“Mentioning female serial killers brings Gwen to mind?” Sam set down the water and a bottle of that iced tea Gwen liked. 

“She is kind of quiet, keeps to herself, likes kids….” He raised a finger and cleared his throat. “She mates, she kills.”

Sam laughed and gestured towards the doors. “She’s outside. She said she had a couple calls to make.”

Dean tossed the popcorn on the counter. “You mind grabbing that for me?”

“No.” The clerk gave the total and Sam gave him money, then handed the bottle of tea to Dean. “Not if you don’t mind taking that out to Gwen for me. I’ll go next door and get some sandwiches to go.”

“See if they’ll put extra tomato in a container.”

“Why?”

“The baby is craving tomato now.”

Sam glanced at Dean’s stomach. “I presume you mean Jo is craving it. Unless you’re having sympathy cravings?”

“Of course it’s for Jo. Geez.” Frowning, he took the tea and went out the door.

He headed for the sandwich place next door, Jo falling into step beside him as he passed the restroom doors. She was looking considerably better than she had right after leaving Lisa’s house. “Doing okay,” he asked as they got in line.

She pushed her hair from her face with two fingers. “My ankles are swelling. How about you?”

“My face is swelling,” he said, copying her nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone and looking down at her.

Jo looked up and they started laughing.

It felt good to laugh, so Sam didn’t try to hold it back. Perhaps they both sounded a tad demented, but who cared? It had been a long time since he’d had a laugh like this.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen took a short walk from the station. They were going to be a few minutes, so no time like the present. Jo was in the restroom, Sam was picking out drinks, and Dean was grabbing his own snacks and filling up the gas tank. Gwen had time to make a call.

She took out the index card Ben had written his dad’s name and number on for her, gave the immediate area a long glance, and prepared herself mentally before dialing.

“Hello?” The voice was deep and shared a faint resemblance to Dean’s voice. She could hear a little girl talking in the background and he said, “Christine, daddy’s on the phone. Hush, okay?”

“Hi, is this…Bryan?” Gwen attempted to impart a sense of urgency to her voice.

“It is.”

“Bryan, hi, I’m a friend of Lisa’s. She didn’t want me to call, but…. She needs you. Ben needs you. Can you please come? There’s been an incident and I’m really worried about Lisa. She’s acting like it didn’t happen. I think it’s shock. I don’t know what to do and she and Ben have mentioned you….”

“What kind of incident?” Concern and alarm filled his voice.

“A bad one.”

“I’ll need to call a sitter, but I can be there in a couple hours. Don’t leave them alone…what was your name?”

“Gwen. It’s Gwen.”

“Okay, Gwen. Thanks for calling me. Stay right there with Lisa.”

“I will,” she lied and hung up.

“When did Supergirl develop the ability to read minds,” came Dean’s voice from behind her.

Turning, she found him holding out a bottle of iced tea to her. She took it. “Thank you. Beat you to the punch, did I?”

He smiled. “I’d had the vague idea of calling the guy, but it’s probably better you did. I suspect he reacted better to a woman calling than he would a guy.”

“I thought so. He’s going over there. Said it’ll be a couple hours.”

Dean nodded, taking a sip of his drink before answering. “Good.”

She slipped her phone into her pocket. While he’d said the bridge was in ashes, it was human to go back over old ground. “Don’t look back, Dean okay? Don’t analyze any of it or look for reasons. It happened, it all happened, and it’s done. Move on. Fresh day from here on out.”

“I plan to.”

“Just checking.”

“Uh-huh.” He sipped his drink. “You talked about it yet to Jo or Sam?”

“You wanting to listen?” She shook the bottle of tea, then opened it.

He turned to face the gas station. “I can do the therapist stuff if you want.”

He didn’t want to, was uncomfortable even bringing it up, but he _was_ bringing it up. He’d listen if she wanted to tell him how she felt. A burst of affection slipped through her and Gwen smothered a smile. How had she gotten so lucky as to be a part of their family? “I’ve talked to Sam already and I’ll probably talk to Jo, and maybe Ellen when we get back. It’s a sweet offer, Dean, but I think I’m covered.”

He nodded and pointed at the car. “Looks like Sam and Jo are waiting.”

“Then let’s go.”

Sam and Jo were struggling with giggles and couldn’t seem to look at each other without starting into fresh peals. Gwen exchanged a glance with Dean, shrugged, and got in the car. Neither could explain what had set them off, either. Gwen grinned, shook her head, and settled back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Halfway home, they stopped to rest a few hours. It wasn’t that Dean couldn’t have driven longer because he had several times. It was more that they all needed to sit around a table and talk about some of it. He could see the need in Jo and Gwen and even Sam and decided that he probably needed a little of that himself. The postmortem, Gwen called it.

“What have we learned, kids?” Dean tapped his beer bottle on the table.

“Old girlfriends and new wives don’t mix,” Jo suggested with an amused gleam in her eyes. Already she was able to laugh about it, bouncing back from the emotional outpouring that had happened at Lisa’s house.

“Besides that.”

“Even monsters can be gullible?” Jo tried again. The suggestion was a nod to the shape shifter and witches Mia had betrayed for her own ends.

“Besides that.”

“We fell for a stupid trap,” Sam said, touching one purplish bruise on his cheek.

“How could we have known that Officer Hulk was watching you watch Lisa’s,” Dean countered.

Gwen opened her own beer. “How about when a trusted ally says not to pursue something, it’s generally a good idea to take that advice?”

Dean nodded. “Besides that.”

Jo laughed. “What lesson are you looking for, honey?”

“Gwen’s birth mother was one of the nastiest witches we’ve come across?” Sam guessed and Dean raised his bottle for a toast to that.

“And we’ve met a few.”

They toasted then. Three with beer and Jo with water.

“Powerful, manipulative, and able to con even hunters into trusting her.” Gwen shook her head. “How old do you think she was? I mean really? Was she old when she had me or was she really young then and let herself age normally?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Dean told her. He’d never cared enough about it to research witches and how long they could still have kids. “Doubt we’ll ever be on good terms with any witches to ask how that works for them. We know some have kids, pass their knowledge on to their family.”

“Speaking of family….” Gwen reached behind her to Sam’s computer bag and pulled out Neal Campbell’s diary. “I’ve been reading the past couple hours.”

“And?”

“They really believed Mia’s story. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Aaron Carys was a friend, a family friend and it sounds like they went way back, like maybe Aaron’s family was tied to the Campbells. Not by blood, but by friendship. When we get back, I’ll explain about the code. Then any one of us can translate the journals.” She set the book on the table. “We’re all family here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jo said.

Dean stared at the journal. “Your dad, Neal…. He had a lot of journals, you said?”

“He did. Wrote a lot. In the barn, Mia said Neal was the records keeper for the family. That can mean that he kept the archives, which he did. It can also mean that he kept records, as in wrote them. Some of his journals may have been a larger project, looking at things the rest of the family had been doing. I don’t know. We’ll have to keep going through the boxes, sift out the useful information, glean what we can. Anything could be in those boxes, Dean. Anything at all.”

“We’ve got a file on cursed objects that was in there that’s going to take a year or longer to go through and track the pieces down,” Jo said. “There may be more of them. I expect there will be and more -- things we can only dream about until they’re uncovered. If the Campbell family is as old as Samuel claimed….” She leaned forward. “Sweetheart, we could be standing right in the doorway of a room full of things none of us have ever seen before or knew even existed. The Campbell family secrets. The family archives. The knowledge there if they’re an old family. Mom keeps saying they loved their secrets and there are some doozies lurking in there. Could be some pretty big discoveries.”

Excitement sparked inside him and he held out his bottle. “Who’s up for diggin for the family skeletons?”

Sam tapped his bottle to Dean’s. “Hopefully we’ll find more than skeletons.”

Jo tapped her water glass to their bottles. “Count me in”

Gwen smiled and leaned forward, tapping her bottle to the bottles and glass. “I don’t mind digging.”

With a last toast, they finished their respective drinks, got ready for bed, and laid down for a few hours of sleep. Visions of archives danced in his head. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The house was quiet. Ben was upstairs in his room and Lisa felt at loose ends. The business card Sam had left before was gone from the counter in the kitchen and she knew one of them had taken it, removing that trace of them from her life. She set the slip of paper Dean had given her on the counter in it’s place. Maybe later she’d think about it.

Exhaustion wrapped about her and for a long time, she sat at the kitchen table and stared into space, holding an ice pack to her jaw. The spot Jo had hit was tender. When she was able to rouse herself from that, she went upstairs.

Lisa moved her clothes to the back spare bedroom, trying to keep busy, her steps faltering every time she went into the master bedroom and her eyes turned to the dent in the wall. The events that had happened felt like a dream until she saw that dent and recalled flying through the air and hitting the wall hard. It had happened. No matter how much she wanted it not to have happened, it had. She couldn’t forget it. Her mind wasn’t letting her.

She knew there were going to be nightmares and they were going to be bad. Already she could barely stomach going in the master bedroom, but she wasn’t sure she could take Gwen’s advice. She didn’t think she could talk to anyone about it and if she did, she certainly couldn’t tell the whole truth. Who would believe her? 

Interspersed with memories of the abduction and barn were memories of the conversations with Jo and Dean, replaying over and over in her head.

She never should have taunted Jo. She shouldn’t have given in to the impulse to cause her the slightest bit of trouble. She’d let her jealousy get the best of her with disastrous results. She’d been the person she’d tried very hard to keep Dean from seeing, the petty, jealous one that she hated acknowledging she could be. He’d seen all of her.

Lisa sat on the guest bed, staring at the open closet.

Dean had ceased to be hers in every way. The past was the past and he was gone, really gone this time and not because she’d told him to go. _He’d_ set _her_ aside, decided the life he’d claimed he wanted wasn’t what he wanted; moved from apple to cherry pie. He’d changed and she….

She hadn’t. She’d stagnated in that dream of him. All of this time she’d hoped and dreamed that he’d come back and declare her to be everything to him…. 

It had been a stupid want. 

That dream was over, smashed to bits that were little more than dust. Jo had made it clear during their talk that she’d fight hard for Dean and Lisa didn’t really want that life anyway. She’d established that long ago. Jo was right though. She hadn’t been able to cut it and looking at that truth about herself hurt. It was hard to admit that she wasn’t the right one and that she didn’t have the ability to adapt. It wasn’t only that she hadn’t wanted the life itself, it was that she’d known deep down that she wasn’t capable of adapting to fit into Dean’s world any more than he’d been able to adapt to hers. It was hard to admit that she wasn’t the best for Dean. Someone like Jo was. Someone he obviously trusted enough to tell about Sam and about his childhood. Someone he felt more than an obligation for. A woman who could run in that life _with_ him instead of waiting around _for_ him.

Jo would never tell Dean to come home when he could because she’d be out there with him. She was the equal partner Lisa hadn’t been and couldn’t be. And Jo had no problem with Sam’s place in Dean’s life. She approved of it and encouraged it.

Lisa stopped trying to make sense of that. 

Her chin quivered, tears welling in her eyes. If it hadn’t been plain enough for her from Jo, Dean himself had said it and destroyed the assumption she’d had of her place in his past. She’d told Jo that she, Lisa, was first and Jo was second best, but it turned out that it wasn’t the case at all. Apple pie was a dream he’d had and nothing more. She wasn’t a special memory at all. 

He’d chosen Jo and Sam. He’d chosen the very life he’d tried to leave and she’d managed to alienate him. The words had flown from her mouth, every effort to backtrack tripping up, and maybe if she hadn’t been off-balance from that talk with Jo she might have been able to salvage something. Jo had thrown her a curve that Lisa hadn’t been able to recover from before Dean had stepped onto the porch.

The carefully cultivated image Dean had had of her was ripped and torn. She’d never wanted him to see the whole of her and in her efforts to keep that from happening, it had happened. She’d made it happen, while jealousy and anger had been a rolling boil inside her.

Lisa began to cry in earnest and as she sat there, Ben came to the door.

“Mom? You okay?” He’d changed clothes, no longer wearing a flannel shirt over his t-shirt and the t-shirt he was wearing had no band name or saying on it.

“No. I regret….” What could she say? What would he understand? How much was her own son aware of in regards to her behavior? A sliver of shame pierced her and she patted the bed beside her, inviting him to sit. When he had, she said, “I haven’t been my best the past couple days. I’ve said things I haven’t meant, behaved in a less than stellar example for you. I haven’t been the mom I should be.”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

“It’s not an excuse, is it?” She wiped her face with her hands.

The doorbell rang, over and over, and for a moment, Lisa was thrown back in time to all of the times Dean had rung the bell. It couldn’t be him though. It’d never be him again. That thought made her feel tired, guilty, and a little relieved even.

It was over. Dean Winchester was gone from her life.

Whoever it was was impatient, pounding on the door with a fist in addition to the doorbell. Lisa got up and started to the door. Ben went down the stairs with her, standing close as she opened the door.

“Dad?”

Standing there was Bryan, Ben’s dad. He was still in his uniform from work and she couldn’t figure out why he was there. Had she forgotten he was coming by? Couldn’t be. Ben would have been on the camping trip if he’d actually gone instead of driving to find Dean and Bryan had gotten stuck working. Neither were supposed to be there. “Bryan? What are you doing here?” 

He looked worried, gaze turning from her to Ben and back again. A hand raised, slid through his thick dark hair, ruffling it, making one side stick up. “Your friend Gwen called. Lisa, what happened? What’s going on?” He stepped close, hands reaching out, turning her cheek to look at first her forehead, then jaw. His touch was gentle, fingers warm. “Are you okay? Tell me.”

“Gwen?” Lisa pulled back, staring up at him, mind turning in furious circles. How had Gwen gotten Bryan’s number?

“Yeah. Sounded pretty worried about you, too. She said there’d been an incident and you needed me here. She said you’re in shock over it, Lisa, claiming it didn’t happen --”

“Nothing happened. I’m fine,” she said, voice flat, her mind more focused on her wonderings than on the tone of her answer. Why would Gwen do that? Why would she call Bryan? Why….? To what end?

“You’re not fine. I can tell.” His eyes narrowed, gaze sliding down her and back up, lingering on the bandage on her arm. “Look, I got a sitter, so I can stay awhile, all night if need be. Why don’t I come in and you can tell me what happened? I’m medically trained. Let me decide if you’re fine.”

He’d gotten a sitter because a woman had called and told him Lisa needed him there. He was worried, honestly worried, she could see it in his eyes. He’d driven two hours because of a phone call that could have meant nothing. He’d changed his plans at the drop of a hat, a hat that was all about Lisa needing him. Lisa blinked, looking at Bryan in a new light. From legal nuisance to…something different. How gallant of him to come running! How very hero of him! He’d been talking for weeks about wanting a personal connection. She’d thought it was just with Ben, but maybe….

She took a deep slow breath.

Maybe it was her he wanted to get to know. They’d had a good thing for those few nights back then. They could have it again.

“Mom was kidnapped,” Ben blurted out. “That’s what happened.”

“Ben.” She shook her head to protest...but only a little. Perhaps she could talk about it with Bryan. Not the whole demon and witch thing, of course. He’d think her crazy.

“This woman tried to kill her. She was gonna stab her. It happened. She barely got away.”

Bryan glanced behind him at the street as though he’d just thought of something. His voice lowered a fraction, head cocking. “Lisa, were you caught in the massacre at the police station? Or by the people involved? It’s all over the news. Most of the officers were killed yesterday and late last night. They have no leads, nothing to go on.”

“Mom, tell him,” Ben urged. She stared at him a long moment. He wanted her to rely on Bryan, to bring him closer into their lives, when earlier he hadn’t cared at all. What had changed for Ben?

“I didn’t know about the police station,” she said slowly. “I haven’t had the tv on all day. Ben’s telling the truth.” She stepped back, opening the door and letting Bryan into the house, noting just how tall he was and how fit. He was willing to be here for her when he thought she really needed him. “The woman took me out in the middle of nowhere, tied me up. She claimed she was going to raise a demon with my death. I just….”

“How did you get away?”

Jo shot the demon and Dean had untied her. Ben had helped her down the lane through the mud. Her son… _their_ son…had supported her all the way to the car. Gwen had doctored her up, given her advice, and her dreams had been shattered. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “There were people and then I was home. It’s all a big blur.”

“Ben?”

“Some people brought her home. Dropped her off.”

“Where’s Gwen? She still here? Can I talk to her?” He peered around Lisa.

She shared a long glance with Ben, a silent agreement passing between them to deny any knowledge of Gwen. “Bryan, I don’t know anyone named Gwen.”

“Then how did she know….” He shook his head. “Now I’m confused. If you don’t know a woman named Gwen, then who was she? One of the people who rescued you, maybe? Doesn’t explain how she knew my number.”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t stop the tears that fell then and Ben closed the door as Bryan wrapped his arms around her. He held her, cradled her, a hand sliding across her back in comforting passes. She smelled a pleasant aftershave, felt the strength in Bryan’s arms, and decided that maybe it was okay that Dean was gone. Maybe she’d never known him at all. Maybe…. 

Maybe _Bryan_ was the man for her after all.

“I can barely stand being in this house now,” she choked out.

He drew back, nodding, hands chafing her arms in slow motions. “Okay, okay. Ben, go up and pack a bag for yourself and your mom. You’re gonna come stay with me. My house isn’t big, but we’ll manage.”

“It’s too much, Bryan. I can’t impose on you like that.”

“Hey, Ben’s my boy and you’re his mom. It’s not an imposition.”

Lisa let a small, grateful smile slip free.

He was such a good man.

It was all she was really looking for.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jo woke to the sound of Dean’s phone ringing. She stretched and yawned, listening to Dean’s end of the conversation. 

“Ellen…. Yeah, we’re on our way home. Stopped for the night…. Jo’s fine. I told you that earlier. She told you that, too…. What? What do you mean Cas has gone missing?…. No, we haven’t seen him in weeks….”

“Castiel is missing,” Jo asked, sitting up in bed. “When did that happen?”

Gwen sipped at a cup. “Never a dull moment in our lives, is there?”

Sam chuckled and handed Jo a cup. “Got that right.”

The cup was decaf. She sipped once and set it aside to cool. “Missing,” she asked again once Dean had hung up.

“Apparently, heaven can no longer find it’s newest leader. Ellen said Abigael showed up, inquired if he’d been there, said he was missing, and left again.” He and Sam stared at each other. “You don’t think Cas would take a _vacation_ do you, like a Gabriel vacation or a God vacation?”

Slowly, Sam shrugged. “I thought things were going okay up there. They were turning heaven around, improving it.”

“Last I heard they were.” He cleared his throat. “Paging Castiel. Angel Cas. We need to see you.” He looked at the ceiling. “Are you hearing me? Come in, Cas. Big Cas, Cas with a ‘C’. Copy?”

Jo looked at Gwen and tried her best to keep a straight face when Gwen looked at Dean like he’d lost his mind.

“Seriously,” Gwen asked, the tiniest curl of an amused grin on her lips. “That’s how you call for an angel? What, are you on a CB?

“Shush. I _have_ done this before.” Dean waved a hand at her and raised his voice a fraction. “Castiel. Where, oh where --”

“Are you tonight?” Gwen finished for him with a lilt to her voice that was almost a melody. “Why did you leave me here all alone?”

Jo recognized the tune and joined in until the song from Hee-Haw was finished. By the time they were done, Sam was laughing and Dean’s lips were twitching.

Dean crossed his arms. “I’m surrounded by comedians. Are you three finished?”

“What did I do,” Sam demanded with a jokingly outraged tone.

“You laughed.”

“Okay, okay.” Getting up, Jo went to him and put her arms around him. “I’m sorry. we’re done. We are. You gotta admit it does sound a little silly doing the CB thing.”

“You have to go with what works and it works.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Come on, Cas, get your feathery ass down here.”

They waited, all levity slipping away as the minutes passed with no sign of Castiel.

“Try his phone,” Jo suggested, but Sam was already on it.

“His voicemail is full.”

Dean loosed himself from her and turned away.

“Dean, I’m sure he’s okay.” Jo touched his back.

Sam glanced at the door. “Try Abby. She saw Ellen, probably Bobby. I bet she’s on her way here.”

Abigael didn’t answer either. None of the angels answered and it was a solemn, contemplative group that got home a few hours later. 


	44. Chapter 44

Castiel left the presence of God with a feeling of peace and purpose…and several scrolls for those who might not be thrilled hearing the news from him. The scrolls were all official and like the one he’d received about his meeting: only able to be opened and read by the intended recipients.

He returned to heaven, pondering the change in himself. He’d received the guidance he’d craved with such desperation and the assurance he’d needed to continue. Many of his questions had been answered, even a few he’d had about Dean and Sam, and he was certain of his role now.

He was in a position of leadership as a reward for his service. Those choices he’d made, the ones he’d agonized over, they’d been the right ones after all in the end. It wasn’t the full leadership that Michael had had, nor had his powers increased beyond the little extra he’d been given after Lucifer had killed him. He was to do exactly what Uzziel had said they should: be a good steward until the day God returned home and that day would be soon.

A smile tugged at his lips. Soon. The word meant different things to humans and angels respectively. ‘Soon’ could still mean thousands of years, yet he had confirmation. God had always planned to return and he’d been watching all of them, assessing their reactions and actions. He wasn’t disinterested. He loved them all and gave them the lessons they needed when he saw that they were needed.

Lessons in stewardship, in free will, in pride. The list could go on.

He was to share duties with Uzziel, like they were already. Uzziel would take care of overseeing the departments, while Castiel’s focus would be on the AMP, only with changes. Excitement tickled at him. He could hardly wait to share those changes with everyone!

New department, new positions, new rules over all the angels.

New heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~

She should have ditched this place and gone down to earth.

That was the one thought running through Abigael’s head. She should have heeded the calls coming in from Dean Winchester instead of staying here to make certain Balthazar and Uzziel behaved themselves, but wasn’t sure Castiel would approve of her talking to Dean. She was still technically under Castiel’s tutelage and therefore subject to the rules he’d laid out for her. Talking to Dean was one of those rules and Abigael didn’t want to jeopardize her own training in some way.

Ellen, however, hadn’t been one of those rules, so she’d spoken to Ellen, felt her out about Castiel’s whereabouts and determined in seconds that likely, the humans Cas knew wouldn’t know where he was. Was it possible Dean could be calling about Castiel; that he _did_ know where he was? She supposed it could be so.

Abigael resolved to go down and talk to him if Castiel didn’t show up soon.

“Come on, Abby,” Balthazar drawled, attempting to bring her into the argument they were having. “Don’t you think he’s got to be dead?”

Both pairs of eyes turned to her and she tamped down her growing irritation with both of them. Uzziel and Balthazar were trying her patience equally these days. She wondered how Castiel did it. Did he ignore them for the most part? It was the only explanation. Humans didn’t irritate her, these two did. She thought she’d rather be on earth watching over humans than up here watching these two argue over which one of them had to have murdered Castiel.

There was no proof, yet they assumed it was the truth. They were as bad as some humans could be, jumping to conclusions without any proof of anything.

“No, I don’t.”

“Don’t you believe me capable of murder?” Balthazar was overly dramatic on the last word, but his gaze indicated that he was very interested in her answer.

She stared at him. “Of course I think you’re capable of murder,” she soothed, “just not of murdering Castiel. Inciting others to murder in order to further Castiel’s career maybe, but murder him? Nope.”

Raising a finger he pointed it at her with a narrowed gaze. “I don’t think I like you,” he announced.

“You’re breaking my heart,” she told him, noticing a few more angels stepping into the room, Ariel, Mariel, and Jael among them. The argument between Uzziel and Balthazar was prime entertainment for the rest of heaven at the moment. She sighed. She’d attempted to keep it quiet and gotten nowhere for her efforts. News traveled too fast.

He turned his back on her, facing Uzziel. “You. It’s got to be you.”

“I’ve never trusted you,” Uzziel spat.

“I never trusted you first,” Balthazar retorted.

Abigael shook her head. This refrain from the two had been going on since they’d discovered Castiel was gone and no one could find him. Nothing she said mollified either and she crossed her arms. Any second now and they were finally going to come to blows. It had been building for hours.

Yup. There they went.

Sighing once more, she sat on the dais and watched them punch, scratch, and generally attempt to maim each other while a crowd gathered to watch as well. She’d had the guards hold them down earlier and confiscate their swords, so there was no fear they’d actually kill each other.

Really. She rolled her eyes. Did they have to be at each other’s throats within hours of Castiel disappearing?

Stupid men, came a faint voice and she heartily agreed with Risa’s assessment. They were being stupid. There’d been no indication Castiel was dead aside from him being missing and it didn’t have to mean he was dead. He could be hiding out because he was sick of all of them and needed a break. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had. After all, his stress levels at present --

The doors to the throne room opened, slamming against the wall with a bang. A light grew, the throng of angels watching the fight parting. That light was cool and warm at the same time, blinding, yet soft. It made her want to step closer.

Castiel stood in the middle of the open doorway, that light emanating from him. He looked over all of them, long moments where he studied each face present, then strode forward. As he passed, angels either backed up or fell prostrate. He stopped beside Uzziel and Balthazar.

Abigael gasped. His face, it was radiant, but in a way that hadn’t been seen in centuries. The glow he had was a remnant of the glory and magnificence of God, an aftereffect shown on angels and humans both of having been in God’s natural presence.

Castiel had seen God.

The implications of that alone….

There was a new confidence in how he stood and held himself and the intensity of that glow indicated he’d been in God’s presence for…days. That was where he’d been. When he’d left heaven it had been to see God.

“Castiel?” She pushed herself up to stand and took a single step towards him. The light shining from him fascinated her and she wanted to touch his face and see if that light would slip over her.

He nodded once at her and cleared his throat. Uzziel and Balthazar stopped, breaking apart. Chagrin and shame crossed their faces when they saw it was him there, the one each had accused the other of murdering. “This in-fighting stops now. We have work to do. I can’t baby sit the two of you. Either get along or you’re both out of heaven.”

“Cas….” Uzziel stood up straight. His clothes were rumpled and he smoothed them with quick movements.

“Ooh, such a forceful pronouncement,” Balthazar quipped, though it lacked his usual irreverence.

Castiel stared first at one, then the other, then raised one brow. “Do either of you doubt me?”

“No,” they replied in unison. Embarrassment in their actions was clear in how they stood, their shoulders slightly hunched. Uzziel’s arms were crossed and Balthazar slid his hands into his pockets.

“Good. Balthazar, test our remaining brethren, leaving no one out. Every single angel must be tested whether they wish it or not. Be thorough in the testing. Leave no room for doubt on the ability of any to adapt to a life on earth as a human. This is no longer a simple AMP matter, but one for all of heaven.”

Why? Why live as human, Abigael wondered. She’d not thought the AMP was about really living as a human, merely being able to pass for one if needed.

Levity left Balthazar completely and he took a step forward. “Castiel, that will take a very long time. To be so thorough…I’ll need to re-test some I’ve finished with using added criteria.”

“Then do it. Real change and a new day begins _now_. You’ll test them or I’ll find someone who will.”

A glimmer of respect flickered in his eyes and he nodded. “Very well.” He left without his usual swagger.

“Uzziel, see to the smooth running of the departments as the testing process continues. I’ll have more to discuss with you and Balthazar shortly, but let’s get the ball rolling first.”

“May I ask --”

“We need to get heaven shiny, Uzziel. I think you suspect part of the reason and have since long before the war was over.”

An intense light grew in Uzziel’s eyes. “The day?”

“Soon.”

The confirmation sent a wave of sound throughout the room, angels murmuring to each other in excited tones.

“We need to be good stewards now more than ever. Especially with what has been entrusted to us. Will you stand with me still?”

“Of course. I promised I would, but what has been given to us?”

Castiel shook his head. “We’ll have a press conference in a few hours. This will ultimately affect all of heaven and even the earth. Contact everyone connected to heaven in some capacity. All should attend, even the lower ranks. If… _when_ …they balk,” he removed several scrolls from his coat, “give them the scrolls addressed to them.”

“It’s that important? That all are there?”

“It is. Once more heaven will work together, all of heaven…and all of it’s resources.”

“Then I’m already on it.”

He glanced around him. “The rest of you have work already assigned to you. Be about it.”

In minutes, it was only Abigael left with him. She put her hands in her jacket pockets to keep from raising them to touch his face. Would that light feel warm to touch? Or was it just light? “What about me? I have no job at present.”

“When preparations are completed…. There’s a position for you.”

“Doing what?” He said it as thought it was a brand new job, which couldn’t be. There hadn’t been new jobs created since before God had left heaven. “What is it, Castiel?”

His smile was slow and pleased, a genuine smile. “Something I think you’re perfect for.” He glanced around the throne room. “But first, I need you to answer Dean’s calls for me while I head to the first of several meetings I already have arranged. He thinks I’m missing?”

She glanced down at the floor. “I may have gone to talk to Ellen when we couldn’t find you. I thought she might have an idea where you were without bothering the Winchester brothers. You don’t want me talking to them without you, but I didn’t think you’d object to me seeing her. I’m sorry. I got back from seeing Ellen and Balthazar and Uzziel were fighting. I ended up refereeing them. Few were listening for any calls from anyone. Should I have gone to see him? Disobeyed your original instructions?”

“How long would you have waited before seeing him?”

“I’d figured another day.”

He nodded. “An adequate time frame.” Castiel glanced at the doors. “Abigael…. I can’t wait until later to tell you. It’s too exciting.” Stepping close, he gave her the news in a low whisper, news that sent a wave of pleased excitement crashing through her.

“Truth?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what to say. Cas --”

“Say nothing until God returns, then thank Him for the position.”

Abigael grinned. “I will.”

“Go see Dean now.” He gave her instructions. “Then find me when you return. I’ve a side project for you to work on.”

Abigael slipped down from heaven and onto Dean’s porch. She stood just outside the door, trying to decide if she should rely on her human training and knock or fall back on her angelic nature and simply appear. She chose to knock and withstand Dean’s scrutiny before he’d open the door and let her inside the house.

~~~~~~~~~

Everyone else was asleep and had been for hours, but Dean couldn’t sleep. He paced the living room, a thumb full of whiskey in a glass, taking a sip every now and then. Why was it when he thought he didn’t have to worry about anyone, there was always one more to worry about? What was it with the angels and going missing? First Uzziel, now Cas?

A knock on the front door interrupted his thoughts. It was soft, tentative, and he checked out the window, then again out the glass at the top of the door before opening it. “Abby?” Was it her though, or was it Risa? She was wearing different clothes than the last time he’d seen her, tennis shoes now, jeans, t-shirt, and light jacket over it of the sort Jo preferred to wear. Her hair was down, loose about her face and shoulders. She didn’t look like an angel. There was too much emotion on her face. Couldn’t be Abigael. “Risa,” he tried again. 

“Hello, Dean. You were right the first time. Abigael.”

“Oh.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You look…emotional.” Why was she waiting on the porch? Why not just zap in like the rest of the angels did? 

“Thank you. Castiel taught me well. May I come in?” 

He opened the door wider for her.

She stepped inside the house. Abby looked like just another human standing there, apparently taking what he’d said as a compliment and he closed the door. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, it’s about time one of you showed up.” He moved to the couch. Bending, he set his glass on the coffee table. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling. What the hell’s going on up there? Is Cas okay?”

She stepped closer. “He’s fine, Dean. He was away and didn’t tell any of us where he went. Uzziel and Balthazar got it into their heads that the other killed him and got into a fist fight in the throne room. I was trying to keep them from each other.”

“No loss if they did kill each other,” he muttered.

She started to laugh, nodding. “I assume you’re referring to Balthazar?”

“You think it’d be a loss?” 

“I decline to answer. Castiel put a stop to the fight when he arrived.”

“Where was he?”

“Sorting out heaven. Getting some fatherly advice.”

“Fatherly….” He swallowed hard as her meaning sunk in. “Cas saw God? Seriously?”

She smiled and he could see the excitement there on her face. “He did. Dean, things are good, really good. Everything is finally where it should be again. We have a purpose, heaven, all of heaven, united in that purpose.” She came closer. “What can I do for you tonight?”

“Why didn’t Cas come? It was him I called for…mostly.”

“He sent me as proxy and also his deepest apologies that it has to be this way for short while. He’s unable to leave heaven until the initial stages are complete. They are delicate matters and require some negotiations between the parties involved. He’s the only one given the authority to speak in the matters. When the negotiations are completed --”

“What kind of negotiations?”

“Important ones.” She shrugged, moving to where she could turn and lean against the back of the couch. “I’m not trying to avoid the question. I simply have no answer to give until the matters are settled. Castiel doesn’t want me to say anything yet and by the time I can say something, he’ll likely tell you before I can. So, how about you tell me what you need and I take care of it?”

He hesitated.

“It’s okay. Anything you ask and my responses will be relayed to Castiel. I’m here in proxy for him, not as myself. If he disapproves of my actions on his part, he’ll fix it himself.”

“You’re like his right hand angel now? Last I saw, you were a trainee.”

“I’m a fast learner.” Abigael crossed her ankles. “And I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say right hand angel. Uzziel and I are close to him, Uzziel more so than I and Balthazar….”

Didn’t she understand? Castiel had always come himself. He’d sent her here. This meant that he trusted her like himself, even as an _extension_ of himself. “You’re here in proxy. You, not them. You. Abigael. He’s never _sent_ anyone else to speak for him before. It means he really trusts you. Been a long time since he’s trusted any other angels like that. Means something.”

She was pleased by that, smile widening. “What’s your request?”

“Would you erase my home location and phone number from Ben and Lisa? Ben especially. I think he’s more inclined to try and find me again if the notion hits him even if he isn’t interested in this life anymore. I’d rather not have further surprise visits. One was more than enough.”

“Do you wish the particular state you’re in to be removed or only the town and street address?”

“State, if you would.” That would be the best course of action.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.” He slid his hands into his jeans pockets. “How is Castiel? I mean really?”

“He’s absolutely sure of his purpose now. We all are. We remember what we were created for, a thing many of us forgot in our jealousies over humanity. Heaven has entered a new phase of existence. Hopefully improved.”

“And Cas is in the middle of all the action.”

She laughed. “He is. Until next time, Dean.” Reaching out, she touched his arm, squeezed it lightly before disappearing.

An angel had said goodbye. Dean thought a moment on that. Abigael gave Cas credit for teaching her about humanity, so as utterly human as she seemed, it was due to Castiel’s teaching. He may not act completely human himself, but he could obviously teach others how to do it. He grinned, relief sliding over him. Cas was in the middle of whatever was going on and it sounded like it was good things.

Well…. At least he was getting _some_ kind of action.

He went up the stairs, moving carefully and skipping the fourth step, as it creaked every time. In their room, he stripped and slid beneath the covers beside Jo. She stirred and shifted, hand reaching out for him, patting his leg. Her voice was sleepy.

“S’up?”

Dean slid closer, holding her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Cas is okay. Abigael came by. She says it’s all good up there and he’s fine.”

“Mmm….” She squeezed his hand. “M’glad.” In seconds, Jo was asleep again and Dean cradled her in his arms as he himself drifted down into dreams.

The next couple days before Jo’s appointment seemed to pass alternately in fast swoops and slow arcs. Excitement and nervousness entwined inside Dean, doing a jog in his stomach as he walked with Jo into the building. They were going to see the first picture of their child today and he could barely wait, though a little afraid that it’d show something was wrong.

He sat beside her in a chair, nearly holding his breath, his attention focused on the screen.

It looked a bit like an alien, curves and lines that didn’t make any sense at first, but when it finally dawned on Dean what they were seeing, he grinned wider. That was a little face, a little arm, a little leg….

“That’s our baby,” Jo said. She gripped his hand tightly, her grin as goofy as he knew his was.

“It sure is.”

The technician tapped something on the keyboard. “Do you want to know the sex? I can tell you right now.”

Jo nodded. “I do.”

Dean shook his head. “Not me. Surprise me.” He got up from his chair and waited outside the room for a minute, hearing Jo’s ecstatic cry through the closed door. The cry could mean anything. Boy, girl, she’d be happy with either just like he would.

The tech printed a picture and Dean couldn’t help himself. He _had_ to show it to everyone they passed. It was like a compulsion. The women in the waiting room ooh-ed and aww-ed, but the strangers on the street didn’t care. Dean dismissed them and guided Jo into a chain store. Time to make a few wallet sizes. One for him, one for Jo, one for Ellen…. Would Sam, Gwen, and Bobby want copies?

~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean had gone, the tech held a stylus to the screen. “See right here. If your husband knew what he was looking at, he would have been able to see it himself. Your baby is flashing us everything, Jo. You’ve got a healthy boy in there.”

“Seriously?” Her stomach lurched, only in a good way.

“No doubt. I’ve never seen one clearer and I’ve been at this awhile. You’re carrying a boy.”

A boy. A little boy with Dean’s mischievous grin and pretty eyes. A boy who’d some day be as lethal to girls as Dean had been. A boy. By the time they left the building, Jo was dying to tell someone. It didn’t matter who. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep her excitement in check. Several times, she almost spilled the beans to Dean just on the short drive to the store.

With Dean occupied printing out wallet sized pictures, she stepped outside and took out her phone, dialing her mother first. Her hands shook. “Mom? It’s a boy! Don’t tell Dean!”

“He doesn’t want to know?”

“No. Wants to be surprised.”

“Be careful not spilling that news, Jo. Sweetie, that’s great. I’ll start some buying later this week. I’ve had my eye on a few things for you.”

She made the round of calls, swearing each person to secrecy, and by the time Dean emerged from the building, she felt a bit more serene. When they finally had the baby, Dean was going to be thrilled. She couldn’t wait to see his expression when he saw they had a son.

“What are you smiling about,” he asked, grinning like an idiot himself.

“I’m happy.”

Drawing her close, he caressed her cheek. “Me too.”

Only a couple more months and they’d meet their child. Their boy.

Jo looked forward to that.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a good day to relax in a hammock. Sam hadn’t ever had many days he could do just that, so he took advantage, setting up the hammock Dean had bought not long after they’d moved in, and coaxing Gwen into it with him. It didn’t take much to convince her to play hooky from anything resembling work. She was more than willing to ‘canoodle’ as Dean would call it. 

He wasn’t going to do research or even think about cases for a single day. He was going to relax, stare at the sky, and not do one damn thing all day. Heck, he might even do some yard work later. 

Sam stared up at the tangle of leaves in the tree above them, Gwen tucked against his side. A warm breeze swept over them. By noon it’d be another scorcher, but right now it was nice. The hammock swayed slightly as Gwen shifted, her bare foot sliding along his, then up a bit beneath his jeans leg.

Dean and Jo had left early for her appointment and should be back any time. Jo had called already to tell them the big news. A boy. She’d been unable to wait until delivery day to find out and also unable to keep from calling everyone and telling them. It was going to be hard to keep Dean from finding out. Sam figured Dean was probably going to be the only one who didn’t know they were having a boy before the actual day. She’d also said he was making a couple wallet sized pictures, one for her and one for him.

“Tell me Dean won’t give us wallet sized pictures,” Gwen said drowsily, sliding her hand along his chest.

“Ten says he will.”

“You still trying to recoup the loss from him putting your bags in my motel room months ago?”

“Maybe.” He slid his hand under the edge of her tank, skimming it along her side.

“The proud daddy.”

“It’s nice to see him happy, I mean really happy, looking forward to something instead of looking back and regretting. We both had too long of the latter.”

They lay in the hammock until the sound of the Impala coming towards the house roused them, then fought their way out of the hammock and helped take the bags of groceries into the house. Grocery bags in the kitchen, Dean cleared his throat and held up an envelope with dramatic flourish.

“Just show it to them,” Jo told him, taking a plastic bag into the bathroom and coming back out.

“And the winner is,” Gwen said, a twinkle in her eyes.

Dean removed the picture and held it up. 

“You’re having a…space alien,” Sam asked, tilting his head a little in an attempt to see all Jo had already called and talked about.

“Baby,” Jo corrected, flicking his arm with her fingers as she passed him. 

“Ouch.” He rubbed the spot, though it hadn’t really hurt.

She smiled sweetly. 

“Two arms, two legs, head, fingers and toes.” Dean tapped it with a finger, then handed it to Gwen and placed his hand flat on Jo’s belly. “It’s a beautiful baby in a beautiful bump.”

Gwen touched the picture with a finger. There was a fraction of a second of longing in her eyes, quickly gone. “Congratulations, guys.” She handed the picture to Sam and went in the kitchen with Jo to help put away the groceries.

Sam saw the longing and even felt a tiny twinge of it himself as he studied the picture. When he looked at Gwen, he could almost imagine her with a baby in her arms and the image didn’t freak him out as much as it once would have. That had to be a good thing, right? “So, boy or girl?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Dean replied, taking the picture back. “The baby is healthy, Jo is healthy, and that’s what counts.”

Frankly, Sam would be surprised if someone didn’t let it slip to Dean. It’d be a miracle if he got to the delivery room without a good idea he was going to have a son. He was right, however. That Jo and the baby were healthy was what mattered. “It is what counts,” Sam agreed.

“Fire up the grill, Sammy.”

“The grill?”

“We’re celebrating.” He took the picture, wedged it in the lower corner of the picture Ellen had gotten framed for them of the four of them in front of the house. In that framed picture, Sam and Dean stood together, with Jo and Gwen on the outside of them. “You think you’d ever see the day when we’d have all of this? Home base, two women who love us and put up with us. Marriage and babies and…hunting still all in it.” Dean adjusted the picture, straightening it. “I never thought this was possible, Sam, but here we are.”

“We are.”

“I think that’s cause for some celebrating. Picked up steak and a few other things.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

Sam watched Gwen as he worked at the grill, as they ate, and later, as they sat in chairs talking and laughing. She wanted more. She wanted the things Dean was giving Jo: marriage, family.

Could he give her more? Would there be some moment in the future where he could release the hold on his fears and emerge from them? Or was this moment where they were at all they’d ever have between them?

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel was in the kitchen when Dean got up to get a few more beers to take outside.

“I heard you were busy,” Dean told him, reaching into the fridge. “You weren’t going to be able to come down for awhile.”

“I was. I still am. I’m in the middle of negotiations. A couple parties involved are being disagreeable and we’ve taken a break to cool down. I’m confident arrangements will move on as they are supposed to when we return to our negotiations shortly.” 

“What’s going on? You have a new position?” He set three of Gwen’s favorite beer on the counter and six of his and Sam’s beer.

“Something like that. More like a title to the position I’ve already been in, with a department beneath me.”

“Cas, that’s great. So what are you, ambassador to humanity? Special angel number one?” What position had he had? It had sounded to Dean like he’d been doing a little of everything, but mostly been the ‘face of new heaven’. 

“It is great. It’s a new program, one that takes the principles learned in the AMP, but actually puts them into practice in a way never before undertaken. We’ve never had this job before. If the program does as expected, balance will be kept. Angels will be a presence on earth. An unnoticed presence, but a presence. However, it means a change in our interactions.” 

The tone of Castiel’s voice alerted him to his meaning. “Let me guess. You won’t be coming around anymore?”

“Basically, yes. The importance of this project means I can’t be on earth visiting. I have to be up there, making sure everything runs smoothly, and when I’m here, I have to be meeting with the angels in my program, assessing them, keeping on top of their jobs, making sure nothing goes wrong. That’s my role. I’m meant to guide other angels in their earthly jobs.” 

“Makes sense your time would be taken up with that.”

He glanced at the floor. “I will be thinking of you, of all of you --”

This felt strangely like a goodbye and he hated to think of it that way. Castiel had been there for many things and to think that he might not be there in the future…. It made him feel like he was losing a friend. “I get you’ll be busy, but I’ve told you before: come when you can, Cas. Friends are always welcome.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“You wanna come out and say goodbye to everyone? Have a beer, hang out until you have to go back?”

“It’s not a goodbye.”

“Be honest, Cas, because it sure feels like one. You ever coming back?”

He looked at the beers on the counter. “If it were a goodbye, I’d say it. This is not one. We’ll see each other again.” Castiel’s glance returned to him. There was certainty in his eyes for a brief second before he disappeared.

Slowly, he gathered the bottles and returned to the party outside.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen was doing research when she realized someone was reading over her shoulder. She paused in her writing and cleared her throat, glancing without turning her head. “Do you do this to Sam and Dean?”

Castiel came around her chair to stand at the side of the table. “On occasion.”

“I presume that since I’m the only one here, it’s me you’re here to see?” She shoved her notebook and pen to one side, closed the lid of her laptop, and turned in her chair, crossing her legs. “Or are you planning on waiting? It’ll be awhile. Dean took Jo to buy a few more maternity tops. Her favorite blouse wouldn’t close over her stomach this morning.” Since Dean had done the laundry, she suspected he’d tossed it in the dryer and accidentally shrunk it. He wasn’t careful when he did laundry. Of course, Gwen wasn’t particularly careful either. She didn’t have clothes that could shrink like Jo did. She’d been careful not to buy anything like that. “I’m not sure where Sam is, but he’s not here.”

“You presume correctly. I’m here to see you.” He picked up the open file folder and looked at it, flipping the pages and reading through the information Jo had already put together before setting it back down. “You’ve no ill effects from the events of last week?”

“None save the usual ones.” Nightmares and such. The average effects pretty much everyone had. She knew even Sam and Dean had nightmares and of the sort that made hers seem like rainbows and kittens.

“You’re certain?”

He looked almost like he’d expected some health complaint from her and she shifted position a little, resting her arm on the edge of the chair back. “You tell me. You’re the angel with all the healing powers.”

“Your physical health is good, Gwen. You’ve no anomalies within you to cause problems in the future.”

“Well, that’s…good to know.” She noticed he didn’t mention mental and emotional health. Did that mean anything? Or was it Castiel being Castiel? She didn’t know him well enough to know.

“Yes.” His head cocked. “You’ve been curious about your father for a very long time now. I should have said a few words immediately to assuage your curiosity.”

“That’s quite a segue, from my health to…that. I still would have gone looking, even if you’d said something.”

His nod was slow. “Human curiosity.” He shifted the pile of folders at the end of the table, fanning them out, then restacking them. “While the information in Neal Campbell’s journals will give you some details about him, you should know that your biological father was a good man, honorable, and from a long line of such men. He did die trying to protect you. You were special to him, his precious child, and now you’re special to Sam, like Jo is to Dean.”

She studied him. “That’s not how you meant the word that day. ‘Special’. You said it with significance.”

“You’re being special to Sam isn’t significant? Or being special to you father?”

“Not how you meant it,” Gwen said again with a quirked brow.

“Does it matter?”

There was another choice here to make. Did she pursue this line of questioning or let it go? “If I asked for the truth on how I’m special, would you answer?”

A tiny smile played on his lips. “Are you asking?”

“Maybe.”

Castiel stepped to the wall, hand raising, a finger touching the picture Dean had added to the bigger picture. When he turned back to her, that hand slipped down into his coat pocket. “You’re special to and for Sam. What else needs to be said?”

She let loose a snort of laughter. “Dean’s right. Angels are maddening creatures.”

That half-smile lingered and he held out his hand. In it was a flash drive.

“What’s this?”

“The full information on your birth family, both sides. I had Abigael put it into a portable data storage unit.”

“You know computers?”

“Her vessel worked with them. She accessed the knowledge. You have all of the information you could possibly need, going back one hundred and fifty years. Is that sufficient or shall I take it further?”

She stared down at the drive. Castiel and Abigael would have been thorough, she knew. Any question she had would have an answer. It was tempting, very much so.

But did she need to know?

She shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”

“Why? You’ve spent months searching. This information will fill in all of the blanks.”

Gwen took a deep breath. “You once told me that my birth parents didn’t matter, that what mattered were the ones who raised me and who I choose to be today.” She shrugged. “I choose to be Gwen Campbell, very much loved daughter of Neal and Patricia Campbell. They raised me, loved me as their own, and I never felt that I wasn’t theirs. Neither Aaron or Mia defines who I am except in genetic material. The only reason I’d need such information is if I need health questions answered and you just told me I’m healthy. I know who I am, Castiel.”

He set the drive on the table. “You’re lucky. Many never do know who they are. The information is yours regardless. Keep it, save it, destroy it. Your choice.” He was gone before she could say anything and Gwen picked up the drive.

If she kept it, she’d cave and look at the information and she wasn’t sure she needed to be delving any deeper into her biological family. How important could that information be anyway? It dealt with people she’d never met and had barely any connection to at all. It meant nothing.

She headed outside.

~~~~~~~~~~

His errands finished, Sam returned home to find that Gwen had a fire going. It was a small one, but a fire nonetheless.

Sam approached her. “A fire in this heat?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I had something to burn.”

“What was it?”

“Castiel came by. He’d had Abby transfer information on my parents to a flash drive. Gave it to me.”

“And you burned it? Why? You could have known about your father.”

She crossed her arms. “Neal Campbell was my father. Aaron Carys was a man I never had a chance to know, a stranger I happen to share genetic material with. Maybe I was special to him for the short time he had me with him, but I have no feelings for him. Castiel was right. I don’t need to know some hidden past to know who I am. I’m a Campbell by raising and they’re the family I claim as mine. They raised me to be a hunter. That’s who and what I am.”

“You’re not curious anymore?”

“I’ll always wonder a little what he was like. Mia claimed he was like you. Maybe she was lying, I don’t know.”

“To be trusted by the Campbells so often, he had to have been smart, competent, good at what he did.”

“But obviously flawed like the rest of us. He married a witch and was deceived for three years.”

“He made a mistake and she killed him.” He shrugged. “My mistake like he made freed Lucifer. Maybe dying was a mercy for him. He didn’t have to try to put the pieces back together when his mistake cost everything.”

“I had a father who loved me and a good and kind mother. Neal and Patricia. Whoever Aaron Carys really was can stay buried with him. It means nothing to who I am.”

Putting an arm around her, he watched with her as the fire released her past back to where it belonged. Some questions didn’t need to be answered.

When the fire had burned down, he drew her to the Adirondack chairs near the hammock under the large tree and held out a thin chain. He’d spent all day finding what he’d wanted. Three rings: an engagement ring, a worn wedding band, and a tiny baby ring, all put together on a silver chain.

“What’s this,” Gwen asked, taking it and studying the three rings.

“A promise.” He stepped closer, sliding a finger along the chain.

She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Sam?”

“These rings represent things you want out of our life, my promise to you that, while I’m not to any of those places yet, I’ll try to get there.”

“I don’t need marriage or kids. I’ll be happy being the favorite aunt to Dean and Jo’s kids.”

“No, you won’t. You want more and I know it. I want you to have those things you want, Gwen, but you’ll have to be patient with me. I’m not there yet. I may never be there. Can you stay with a man who might never be able to give you the things you want?”

She held up the chain. “Put it on me?”

“Yes?”

“As long as it takes.”

He clasped the necklace about her neck, his hands shaking with relief that she’d said yes. He dropped a kiss to the nape of her neck. “You’re sure?” The rings nestled down beneath the neckline of her tank.

“Do you think I would have accepted it if I wasn’t?”

His shoulders relaxed. “You’re unpredictable.”

“Me?” She faced him again, set her hands on his chest, gripping his shirt.

“You’re sort of a wild card.”

“I am not. You knew I’d take the necklace.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. Could have gone either way.”

A hand raised, caressing his cheek. “No, Sam, it couldn’t have.” She slid that hand around his neck, urging him to lean down. Raising up on tip toe, Gwen pressed her lips to his, a gentle kiss that felt like a return promise, a vow of sorts taken between them. She’d wait for him and maybe, God willing, he’d be able to fulfill his promise to her.

Some day.

~~~~~~~~~~

Night had fallen.

Abigael stepped to the still smoldering embers of the fire and reached down, picking up the flash drive. It had melted, but not fully. Castiel had been certain Gwen would do something like that and make that choice not to take the easy way he’d offered. Of course, there were things Gwen wasn’t aware of in her past that she might still need to know, things that went beyond Mia’s plan for her, and more to her family than the scant bits she knew. Who was Aaron Carys really? Perhaps that information would come into play in the future and perhaps not. Time would tell. Abigael pocketed the drive, then sat on one of the chairs beneath the tree.

Her assignment began tonight. Well, sort of.

She was the first in a new department of angels. For a long time, guardian angels had been human fiction. They’d become a reality at last.

Uzziel’s initial plan had been shaped into something more, a thing that had led to the department God had told Castiel to create. The angels who’d learned to blend in and live as human would take a hands-on approach to certain key individuals -- archangel vessels among those --, living on earth as human, watching over their charges, keeping them safe until Death was to claim them. It was a cross-departmental arrangement and order would be kept.

They had to have wisdom and discernment to know when they should step in and when they were to step back. This wasn’t a light job. She wasn’t going to be protecting her charges from life. There’d be accidents, bumps, and scrapes, sometimes serious ones, but if something tried to interfere with the order, she was to use her wisdom and discernment to decide if she was to intervene. It was going to be difficult, requiring her to be aware of all around herself and them. She couldn’t just intervene whenever she felt like it. She had to know for certain and without one doubt that it was time to step in and protect the children.

Could it be done? Would any of them have a complete success rate with all of the things in the world that would attempt to influence the people? Free will had to be taken into account, and other things such as fate. 

As the first, she was going to be watched, a daunting prospect to have all of heaven’s eyes upon her. Castiel had confidence in her and that calmed her.

Abigael was the first guardian and Dean and Jo’s son her first charge. On the day Sam and Gwen had a child, if it occurred, that one would also be hers. She was attached to the Winchester family now, as much, if not more so than Castiel. Their children would literally have an angel watching over them.

As always, the lines would live on and she, Abigael, would watch over the children to the best of her ability. Smiling, she relaxed in the chair and crossed her legs, glancing at the house.

The Winchester brothers had finally found a definition of normal to call their own.

For the moment, all was well in their world.


End file.
